


Caught Inside

by amagicalship



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crime Drama, F/M, FBI Agent Emma, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Heist, Point Break AU, Smut, Surfer Killian, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 73,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7433962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amagicalship/pseuds/amagicalship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FBI Agent Emma Swan goes undercover to determine if a gang of surfers is responsible for a recent string of priceless art heists. What she doesn't expect is to get in too deep with one of the suspects. Can she keep her head above the water as the stakes get higher? Or will the waves of danger leave her caught inside?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A cool breeze drifts off the water, tickling Emma’s nose as she brushes a wayward strand of hair from her face. It’s early morning on the Pacific Ocean, and if she weren’t here on business, she might find the whole experience utterly relaxing.

“There they are.” David hands her the binoculars. Without pointing, he nods his head subtly in the direction of a group of surfers, currently floating above the water on their boards, waiting for the next break. She and her partner are standing high above them on the lookout at the point, and from this distance their wetsuits make them look like sleek black seals. She isn’t sure how she’ll be able to distinguish them from every other group of identically-clad surfers out this morning.

Emma lifts the binoculars to her eyes, squinting against the harsh light reflecting off the water. As her pupils adjust, she moves her head, scanning the rolling blue-green waves capped with foam.

“Two o’clock,” David murmurs, and she swings her head in the right direction. There. Four men grouped together, obviously part of a crew, since they didn’t seem to mind the close competition for waves.

One white blonde - _Whale_ \- check. Two brunettes - _Jefferson and Locksley_ \- check. And the mark she’d be approaching, his hair nearly black, saturated with water. _Jones_.

Lowering the binoculars, she lets out a sigh. “‘K. It’s time to find out if these guys are really a ruthless band of thieves or not. And if Jones really has a thing for leggy blondes, like it says on his profile.” 

She gives David a mischievous smirk, raising her eyebrows, and he smiles tersely in response.

“Emma,” he sighs. “Take this seriously, OK? I don’t want to see you get hurt.” _Oh boy, here comes the overprotective big brother speech._

“Oh yeah? Like I hurt you the last time we sparred together? You whined like a girl.” She shoves his shoulder, barely managing to move his solid mass, her fingers taking note of the rough feel of his wool jacket as she presses into him hard. David has a killer physique, and she might even find him attractive if he wasn’t so much like family to her. His jacket both gives him the appearance of a slick businessman and the advantage of hiding his gun holsters from view.

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I know, I know. You can take care of yourself. And you’ve got one hell of a round kick.” He stops, regarding her seriously. “Just promise me you won’t let yourself get taken in. You haven’t done that much undercover work. It...well, it’s easy to let yourself believe it’s all real, that you really are the person you’re pretending to be. I hate to say this, but just keep your walls up, OK?”

Emma considers him, both annoyed and touched by his brotherly concern. “You don’t need to tell me to keep my walls up, Dave. It’s like my auto-defense system,” she says sardonically, giving him a resigned smile. David smirks at her in return, his expression that of amused contemplation.

“Way up, then, Emma. No cracks.” She knew it must be killing David not to be able to go down there with her, but they had all agreed it wouldn’t fit with the scenario they had in mind.

“No cracks,” she echoes, giving him a cheeky salute.

They both turn, sauntering back up the path towards the quaint town of La Jolla, with its plethora of swanky restaurants and art galleries, a lavish enclave on the San Diego coastline. Normally bustling with tourists, it’s quiet this early on a Monday morning, and she takes it all in, breathing in the ocean air deeply. She almost wishes she had time to grab a coffee and stroll the boulevard, but she shakes those lazy thoughts from her mind just as soon as they surface. She has a job to do, summertime at the beach or not.

A light breeze caresses her bare arms and she shivers, though if it’s caused by the chill in the air or her nerves she can’t be sure. It isn’t her first time pretending to be someone she isn’t, but the stakes have never been this high before. They need someone believable and well, _attractive,_ to draw these guys in. When Regina found out she had some surfing experience, that sealed the deal. But her boss had made it emphatically clear that she was taking a chance on Emma and that she had better not screw it up. She didn’t have any intention of doing so.

This was the break in her career she’d been waiting for. A chance to be seen as something more than just a former orphan and run-of-the-mill cop. She may be wet behind the ears by FBI standards, but life experience had earned her a few badges of honor. Now was the time to prove to herself and to her peers that the little lost girl could be a hero.

~~~~

After another stern warning from David, he and Emma part ways, and she drives her car down to the beach parking lot at La Jolla Shores. There aren’t a lot of cars this early in the morning, aside from the joggers and surfers, and Emma easily finds a spot in the first row, facing the sand.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she adjusts her top so the round neck rests at just the right spot on her cleavage. Pressing her lips together to spread her pink lipgloss again, she nods slightly to herself, satisfied with her appearance. _He’s never gonna know what hit him,_ she thinks to herself smugly. Fluffing her hair, which is styled in long beachy waves, she exits her car. 

As she closes the yellow door of her mustang convertible, she is struck with a visceral memory of her old yellow VW bug - the one she and Neal had shared. The memory brings a faint smile to her lips, but also serves to remind her of all the little things in her past that she needs to keep tamped down. If the FBI ever found out about her early life as a thief she might be suspended - or even worse - fired. All of these secrets she has to keep close to her vest, weighing her down, but sometimes the truth is best left untold.

Making her way onto the sand, she stops to bend down and pick up her flip flops since they are only serving to flick sand all over the back of her calves. Besides, there is nothing like walking barefoot in the sand, and she closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the feel. A wave crashes against the beach like soft thunder, and she smiles to herself. Moving cross-country was the best decision she ever made.

Aside from leaving her past behind her, it also meant consistently warmer temperatures, a plethora of killer sunsets, and the added bonus of super-friendly people everywhere she went. Apparently there was something about being near the ocean all the time that made people happy or something. She wasn’t about to start complaining.

Tucking her hands in the back pockets of her cutoff jean shorts, she wanders down the beach as inconspicuously as possible, all the while making her way towards the group of surfers. She has already seen their faces in the case files, memorizing their features, and she feels like she has a pretty good grip on the situation. But there is something ominous hanging heavy in the air this morning, like her entire future is about to be turned upside down.

The feeling heightens as she draws closer to the four men, and she kicks at the sand to shake it off. Substantial suspicion is not the same thing as absolute proof. For all she knows at this point, they really are just a group of feel-good boys out for a morning surf. They certainly don’t look like vile criminals, willing to hose down anyone in their path. 

She catches sight of them out of the corner of her eye, and she slows, pretending to look at her cell phone. Scanning the beach, she takes note of a pile of belongings grouped together. Four beach towels, a few bags and some pairs of men’s shoes are tossed about, likely belonging to her targets.

Making her way towards them, she plops herself down on one of the towels, much like Goldilocks would. It’s a navy blue towel with a white anchor, spread out carefully on the sand. If the surveillance reports were correct, Jones should break away from the group first, giving her a few minutes alone with him. She hopes it will be enough time to enact her plan. 

Emma sends a quick text message to Dave while she waits. _Operation Barracuda is a go,_ she types, smirking to herself. Sometimes the FBI is stealthy and slick, and sometimes they can be downright ridiculous. _Reel him in,_ David texts back.

_And be careful_ , comes the second text. Emma rolls her eyes.

Right at 8 a.m., like clockwork, she sees Jones coming in on a wave, and she watches as he expertly maneuvers his board, only jumping off when he reaches knee deep water. Tossing her phone on the towel next to her, she leans back on her wrists, stretching her long legs out and pretending to be a relaxed sun-worshipper. She watches, mesmerized, as he shakes water from his hair before raking a hand through the oily, dark tresses. Her heart speeds up as he stalks towards her, his surfboard tucked under his arm and his muscles shifting under his tight black wetsuit as he walks. _Fuck._ It’s like watching some sort of ad for Blue by Polo Ralph Lauren come to life. Who the hell was this guy?

Shutting her mouth quickly after she realizes it had fallen open in her stupor, she steels herself for the encounter, glad that her sunglasses are hiding what must be wide eyes from his view. Tossing her head back, she juts her chest forward to display her rack as attractively as possible. She needs him to take the bait. 

“Excuse me, lass, but I’m afraid you’re sitting on my towel,” he says in a lilting British accent, dripping water in front of her as he raises a rather attractive dark brow at her.

Emma lifts her sunglasses from her eyes, feigning surprise. “Oh, is it? I’m sooo sorry. I didn’t bring my own, and I kinda saw yours just sitting here unused, and, well-” She jumps up, wiping sand from her ass as she takes him in. _Un-fucking-believable._ The FBI surveillance photos had been mostly taken from far away; nothing prepared her for what Killian Jones looks like up close, in person, and _wet._ Long, thick eyelashes beaded with water frame eyes that are tranquil and blue, contrasting sharply with the darkness of his hair. Luscious, soft pink lips are surrounded by just the right amount of perma-scruff, and she has to force herself to meet his eyes, temporarily distracted as she is by the beauty of his sculpted features. _Looks like I won’t be needing to force the attraction,_ she thinks, the air thick with tension.

Giving her a knowing smile, he drops his board and bends down to pick up his towel now that she’s vacated it, and she smiles up at him as he rubs behind his neck with it. He’s taller than she thought he would be, and she can already imagine what his broad shoulders would feel like beneath her fingertips as she reaches up on her tippy-toes to kiss him. _Focus, Emma._

“It’s alright, lass, I’ve been known to pirate an unattended item now and then myself,” he answers with a smile, and Emma has to keep herself from chuckling. _I’ll bet you have._

“So, you’re British, I take it? How long have you been surfing? That doesn’t seem like something people do over there.” She puts her hands in her back pockets again, twisting her shoulders back and forth slightly. 

Killian smiles, ducking his head at the apparent interest in his life story as he rubs the towel over his head and then lets it rest around his shoulders. He scratches behind his ear, and Emma almost decides right then and there that the only thing this man is guilty of is being criminally adorable.

“Aye, the surfing conditions in England are not quite as pleasant as they are here. But the sea has always been a part of me, so I took to it fairly quickly,” he says, scratching behind his ear again ( _nervous tick, noted_ ) as he thinks about his answer. “I’d wager it’s been maybe five years now that I’ve been surfing, though admittedly not very well for the first year or two!”

Emma smiles. Time to dive right in. “Hey, well, I’m sort of new to the area myself and I’ve been looking for someone who might be able to give me surfing lessons. Any chance you might be interested?” She bites her lower lip, looking up at him through her lashes as she continues to arch her back, pushing her cleavage forward.

Not surprisingly, his eyes drift downward, and when he lifts them to her eyes again, it’s with a smug smirk firmly fixed in place. Raising his eyebrow, he regards her thoroughly. “Hmm...I could probably teach you a thing or two…” Emma swears his voice is suddenly laced with sex, and the innuendo serves to draw a livewire up her spine. If only she were here for a hookup.

“I could pay you!” she blurts out. “I wouldn’t expect you to spend your time with me for free or anything,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Ah,” he says, his brow furrowing, and she can tell he’s trying to figure her out. “Spending time with you -” He’s suddenly right in front of her, invading her space. “- would be my pleasure, lass. What did you say your name was again?” He holds his hand out to her.

“Emma. Emma Swan,” she answers, placing her hand in his. His touch is surprisingly warm for having just come out of the water, and she gasps slightly as he lifts her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss over her knuckles.

When he pulls back, she sees the devil in his eyes, and she gulps. “Killian Jones, at your service,” he says with an indulgent smile. For a fleeting moment it would seem their thoughts are in perfect unison: _Oh, this is gonna be fun._


	2. Chapter 2

“I still can’t believe the Bureau is going to pay you to learn how to surf!” David complains.

“I know, right?” she says, leaning back in her desk chair. “Jealous?”

“Damn right I am,” he answers, throwing a balled-up piece of paper at her.

Emma grins, catching the paper and chucking it back at him, hitting him square in the chest. His answering pout only makes her smile wider.

Regina was more than pleased that Emma made contact and got Jones to agree to the surfing lessons so easily. She was quick to lay on the praise, but also quick to follow up with a stern warning and that _“I’m not really threatening you, but actually I’m threatening you”_ face.

_“Three years, Emma. It’s been three years that these guys have eluded capture. This is the first solid lead we’ve had, and if you lose the scent…” she had trailed off, her fingers clasped in front of her as her lips twisted into a frown. “You don’t want to know what kind of an evil bitch I can be if that happens. Are we clear?”_

_“Yes, ma’am,” Emma had said seriously, giving her a curt nod as she rose from her chair._

_“Did you tell her the part about how he looks like a male model?” David had asked as she exited Regina’s office._

_“Shut up, Dave!” she had warned him, hitting him in the arm and rolling her eyes._

“Alright, bud. I’m out for the night. I’ll see you in the mor- Oh, wait, that’s right. I won’t be here in the morning, I have a surfing lesson,” she teases, rising from her chair.

David leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head as he shakes it. “Damn. If only I were a woman.”

“You may not be a woman Dave, but you are kind of a girl,” Emma says, wrinkling her nose at him.

“Ha ha. Very funny Em.” David glares at her as she walks out of their office. 

“Go catch a wave or something,” she hears him call as she walks down the hallway. “Or perhaps some criminals!”

~~~~

Wednesday morning Emma leaves for the beach early, nervous about commuter traffic, but once she’s past I5 and driving through the hills on La Jolla Parkway, she breathes a sigh of relief. 

She had to drop the top of her convertible in order to fit her brand-spanking new surfboard ( _courtesy of the Bureau, thankyouverymuch_ ) in her car, and now the wind is whipping through her hair, the plentiful sunshine warming her face and arms. She turns the volume up on the radio as she presses hard on the gas pedal, a wave of pleasure winding through her as the car shoots forward. She has a tendency to drive a lot faster than she should, but the adrenaline rush is too hard to resist, especially in her Mustang.

Pulling into the parking lot, she scans it for signs of the gang, but no one is hanging around. After finding a spot, she jumps from the car like a giddy school girl, grabbing her surfboard and making her way towards the expanse of golden sand stretched out before her.

It’s been years since she’s surfed, but it was something she learned to do when she was in college. One of her roommates was from California and she insisted on teaching Emma, even letting her use her surfboard. She smiled at the memory - she and Ariel at Sea Isle City, a daytrip from their dorm at Penn State, catching waves and then getting fish and chips and beers afterwards. Flirting with boys on the boardwalk. Those were the days.

She’s early enough that she has time to spread her towel out and sit down on it, pulling the hair tie off of her wrist and braiding her long hair so it will be out of the way.

“Did you steal someone else’s towel or did you decide to bring your own this time, Swan?” The rich voice surprises her, and she looks over her shoulder to find one Killian Jones walking up behind her. _Catlike stealthiness_ \- she’ll have to add that to her list.

It feels like deja vu as she jumps up again, her heart thumping in her chest as she’s blown away once more by level of attractiveness currently standing in front of her. He’s just as appealing dry as he was wet, the black of his wetsuit complementing his dark features nicely. If only she had known how hot surfers could be, she wouldn’t have wasted so much time in the bars.

“Morning!” she chirps brightly. “And, yes, I managed to remember my own towel this time.”

He merely nods at her, but the dimple in his cheek gives away his amusement.

Just then, Whale, Jefferson, and Locksley walk by with their surfboards, nodding in Killian’s direction. He gives them a bro-nod back, and she notices the guys elbowing each other as they quite obviously check her out. They don’t stop though, heading straight for the water with obvious intent. Emma is a little disappointed that she doesn’t get an introduction, but she’s reminded of what Regina instructed her to do: pace herself, ease her way in, _don’t make waves_.

“Those your friends?” she asks, feigning ignorance.

“Aye, I suppose you could call them that. Just some fellow pirates as it were,” he says bemusedly. Emma raises her eyebrow at that.

“Right then, Swan, you were expecting a lesson this morning? I figured we would start with your form. Good form is of the utmost importance when it comes to surfing.” Killian puts his surfboard down on the sand before he grabs hers and lays it down next to his.

“Alright, be a good lass and come lie down next to me. I promise I won’t bite,” he says, winking at her.

Emma scoffs - _Is he for real?_ \- before she positions herself on her board, lying on her stomach.

“Show me your stroke. Right, like that. OK, so pretend we’re out past the break and we see a good wave coming, you’re gonna paddle as fast as you can, and then when you’re over the break, you pop up - like this.” Killian demonstrates popping up on the board into a wide-legged stance, his knees bent. She finds herself looking straight up into his crotch, and immediately turns her head, grinning to herself.

“Now you try it,” he instructs.

“OK,” Emma says softly, then she pushes up with her arms and uses her ab muscles to pull herself up into a stand as quickly as possible. She tries so hard to do it fast that she loses her balance, falling backwards against Killian, who fortunately manages to hold her up, his hands grabbing her hips as her back hits his chest. Her heart pounds suddenly, pleasant tingles expanding from where his hands are holding her up.

Looking up at him over her shoulder, she finds him smirking down at her, his too-blue eyes full of mirth.

“Sorry,” she says with a grimace.

“‘Salright, love,” he tells her, his hands lingering on her hips for far longer than is necessary. “Shall we try it again?”

She nods in response, unable to manage speech while she’s distracted by his touch.

After practicing a bit longer on the beach, they finally head into the water, the coolness of it causing Emma to gasp as the foam tingles around her ankles.

“You’re not getting scared, are you?” Killian asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, I was just waiting for you,” she replies coolly, taking off in a run towards the break, jumping through the waves until the water gets too deep.

She can hear his laughter behind her, and tries to ignore the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach as she glances sideways and finds the rest of his gang about a hundred yards out. The agent in her is itching to make her way towards them, but she has to remind herself to take it easy. The “junior advertising exec who wants to learn how to surf” doesn’t need to make friends with all the skeezy-looking guys. She wants to appear flirty, not like a slut.

~~~~

After spending half an hour mostly eating it over and over, she manages to get up on her board for a nice little run. Killian follows her in, hooting and hollering. Her broad grin is met with a high-five and praise from her instructor.

“Now that’s how you ride a wave, Swan. How does it feel?”

“Pretty good. Maybe my muscle memory is finally kicking in.”

“Muscle memory?”

“Yeah, you know, when you’ve done something a bunch of times, even if you don’t remember, your brain just sort of takes over.”

“Ah. From when you first learned many years ago, I take it. Shall we call it a day then? I assume you have a job to get to?”

Emma sighs wearily. “I suppose I can’t get paid just to surf all day,” she replies, secretly laughing to herself. That’s exactly what she’s getting paid to do at the moment. _And_ flirt with a hot guy.

Grabbing their stuff, they make their way over to the shower near the restrooms. 

“Ladies first,” Killian gestures, giving her a wicked grin. _Bastard probably just wants to watch. Well, if it’s a show he wants…_

Emma presses the shower button, turning it on, and she tries not to flinch as the water comes spraying out forcefully at her. Reaching up behind her neck, she grabs the zipper on her wetsuit and tugs it down, then reaches behind her back to continue unzipping. Slowly, she peels the wetsuit from her shoulders, glancing in Killian’s direction as her bare skin becomes exposed to him. She’s wearing a bikini under the wetsuit, but it’s purposely skimpy, the kind with only a thin string holding the fabric in place.

Killian is leaning back against a low wall, and she watches as his expression changes from amusement to something darker, something full of _want_ as her wetsuit is peeled back halfway and her torso is revealed to him. He rakes a hand back through his wet hair, and his tongue goes inside his cheek as if he’s contemplating something decidedly naughty. She has to keep herself from grinning. _I’ve got you right where I want you,_ she muses.

Wiggling her hips, she attempts to peel the wetsuit off without losing her bikini bottoms, then she steps out of it and into the spray of the shower. Closing her eyes, she pulls the tie from her hair and lets her braid out, tugging her fingers through it and shaking it out. Then she leans her head back and lets the water blanket her body. She knows she must look a little bit obscene, but she _is_ at the beach, and she _does_ need to get all the saltwater rinsed off.

She’s just wondering what Jones’ expression must look like now when a strong hand grabs her wrist, pulling her away from the shower and then wrapping her towel around her shoulders somewhat forcefully.

Surprised, she looks up into Killian’s eyes, only to find them dark and stormy and full of something she can’t quite put her finger on. _What the hell?_

“Show’s over,” he bites out, nodding towards a group of college boys wearing shit-eating grins who had gathered near the wall.

White-hot anger flares up in Emma’s chest at his interference, because she can take care of herself and she doesn’t give two fucks about some ogling from the other sex. Still internally seething, she has to force her brow to unfurrow, remembering who she is and what she’s doing here.

Mask back in place, she gives him a fake little pout as she brushes the wet strands of hair out of her face. “I thought you were enjoying the show?” she asks, biting her lower lip coyly.

His expression softens, and he tilts his head to the side as he leans a little closer into her space.

“Perhaps some shows would be better to have in private?” he asks, licking his lips as his eyes shoot to her mouth.

“Perhaps,” she answers, and for a small beat she almost thinks he’s going to kiss her as he hovers close. Her heart races, the blood rushing in her ears as they gaze intently at each other.

But then he’s pulling back, stepping away from her, and the moment is over. Emma realizes what’s almost happened and she panics a little, bending to grab her stuff from off the floor.

“We’re still on for Friday then?” he asks as she gathers her belongings to her chest.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then!” She attempts to sound way more breezy than she feels.

Then she turns away from him, heading for the bathroom. She can feel his eyes on her back the whole way there, and a shudder ripples through her when she is finally inside the cool darkness of the little building.

_What the hell was that all about? Did he feel the need to protect my honor? Or was he just being a jealous, overprotective ass?_ Emma stomps into a changing room, letting the door bang close behind her. Killian Jones is not at all who she expected him to be. No, he is something _far_ more dangerous.

~~~~

With her clothes back on, Emma feels a bit more composed again, and she makes her way out of the bathroom, stopping to grab her board from where it leans against the bathroom wall. She is just about to step off the curb and into the parking lot when she looks up, and stops immediately in her tracks.

The breath whooshes out of her lungs as she considers the view before her. Killian is standing behind the open tailgate of his black truck, his wetsuit halfway removed and revealing sculpted lean muscles peppered with a smattering of glorious, dark chest hair. He turns slightly to get something from his bag, and she realizes his hip bones are jutting out above the folded-down material, framing a perfectly flat stomach.

Unconsciously, she licks her lips as she realizes he isn’t wearing a damn thing beneath his wetsuit, and she wonders what else she might get a glimpse of besides the hip bones that are calling out for her touch. She wants to hide herself before he catches her ogling, but her car is parked on the other side of his, and there is no way to get to it without passing him. So she does her best to shield herself behind a tree, peeking out from behind her board and hoping he doesn’t see her.

_She should have just kept walking._

Watching intently as he wraps his towel around his waist, she sucks in a harsh breath as she realizes what’s coming next. His hands go underneath the towel as he tugs at his wetsuit and she begs her fairy godmother for the towel to accidentally drop. Or stay up, she can’t decide. She puts her hand over her face, then immediately removes it. Just then, Killian turns so his back is facing her, and his towel slips down just enough to reveal the area beneath his tan line, the rounded tops of his behind pale in comparison to his muscled lower back. 

_Oh God._ Emma swallows thickly. She wants him, and she wants him _bad_.

Turning towards the ocean, Emma tries to distract herself with an equally alluring view, but it just isn’t the same. She considers the implications of the situation she’s been put in, and decides that nothing good can come of it. The edge she thought she was walking on just became razor thin, and she is going to have to fight with all her might to stay grounded.

Luckily, when she turns back around, Killian is dressed again in a t-shirt and boardshorts, and he’s climbing into the cab of his truck. Emma lets out a long sigh, and begins walking back towards her car. When she gets closer to his truck, she sees him look up and raise his hand in a wave, a shy grin crossing his features as he ducks his head.

She can’t help but grin back as she mimics his wave, her cheeks burning in what she knows must be a crimson flush.

~~~~

Later that day, Emma hits the gym hard, taking out all of her sexual frustration on the weight bag as sweat pours down her face. It does nothing, however, to erase the images of a half-clad potential suspect from entering her dreams that night, and when she wakes up the next morning she finds herself tangled in the sheets, the hazy memory of a kiss that steals her breath away still lingering in her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

On the way to the beach Friday morning, Emma reviews the details of the case in her mind as she drives. Three years the gang of thieves has eluded capture. Over that time, they’ve managed to successfully get away with 21 heists of fine art pieces scattered over various states in the West. After sale on the black market, they were likely to be rich enough at this point not to have a day job and could, if they wanted, surf all day long.

All of the crimes share a common link: at each of the robbery sites a small token was left behind - a torn piece of a pirate flag. Of course, it took the FBI months to figure out what it was because it only appeared to be pieces of black cloth. Eventually they had enough of them to put together the picture, like a strange puzzle. She often wondered if they planned on stopping when the flag was complete, the old skull and crossbones. Or if that would ever be enough for them.

It started small enough, with the theft of a small Qing Dynasty vase worth maybe fifty thousand dollars. But the targets and the heists became increasingly more valuable and dangerous, several ending in car chases that were so manic in pace that the cops crashed and burned in pursuit. Literally.

Emma wonders about her new acquaintance, Jones the British surfer. Even though he doesn’t have a criminal record, it doesn’t escape her that he’s the only member of the group that happens to also own a bar called The Jolly Roger - the namesake of the same pirate flag that’s been left at the scenes of the crimes. A part of her acknowledges that he fits the profile extremely well, and another smaller, more traitorous part of her wishes desperately for him not to be involved. 

She’s a professional, and can often be cold-hearted when the case calls for it. But for some reason this man is inspiring feelings in her that she hasn’t allowed herself to even consider in years. It isn’t just that he’s a pretty face ( _and a hot bod, let’s be real_ ). There’s something authentic and honest in their connection, a thread of recognition that bonds them together whether she likes it or not. She finds she’s willing to overlook whatever suspicions she has because she likes him, and that weakness could prove fatal.

When she parks in the lot, she realizes her brow is knitted in a frown, her grip on the steering wheel far tighter than necessary. She sighs heavily, staring down at her palms as she flexes her fingers, working them loose. _Get yourself together, Swan, it’s just a case_. He’s just a mark and most likely another thief who would steal her heart and betray her just like Neal did. _If she lets him_. She can’t take the chance that she’s wrong about him. No matter what her heart is telling her.

Steeling herself, she exits her car, breathing in the fresh breeze off the water. Her hair is in a pony tail today, and because the weather has warmed up a bit, she’s donning her short wetsuit. Running her palms down her thighs over the skin-tight material, she suddenly feels a tiny bit self conscious.

Leaning over and grabbing her bag out of the backseat, she feels a soft tug on her ponytail just as she’s standing that makes her jump. 

“Morning, Swan,” comes the now-familiar voice.

She turns to find Killian smiling at her a tad bit lecherously as he admires the lengths of her legs and the round swell of her ass. This earns him a sharp glare.

“Admiring the view?” she asks, tilting her head at the ocean, though they both know what she really means.

Killian bites his lower lip. “There’s much to be admired,” he answers, his eyes flicking up and down her form.

Emma would slap him, if she wasn’t so busy trying to quell the flash of heat spreading over her body and convincing her heart to stop beating so fast.

“Is this alright, or do you prefer me to be a bit more ‘covered up?’” She punctuates this with a hand placed firmly on her hip, her chin lifted in a challenge. Important suspect or not, she isn’t about to let what happened the other morning slide by without at least an explanation.

His face falls, and he scratches behind his ear as he gathers his thoughts. “About that. My apologies, lass. I was out of line. I just….can be somewhat protective when it comes to women. A bit old fashioned that way, I’m afraid.” He peers up at her nervously, a pained expression on his face.

Emma can feel his discomfort and gets the sense that Jones isn’t the type to apologize often. Normally she might make him squirm a bit longer, but seeing as it’s only a case and she needs this relationship to blossom, she takes pity on him.

“You’re forgiven,” she says coolly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against her car. “But remember, just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I need protecting. I can take care of myself. Have been my entire life. Are we clear?”

His eyes widen slightly at her declaration, and she mentally slaps herself for letting that little piece of the “real Emma” escape into their conversation.

“Aye,” he nods at her. “We’re clear.” His expression changes to something a bit more wary, but she can tell she’s earned his respect, and that’s important. Looking up at her through his eyelashes, her heart flutters a bit while he gazes upon her with his sapphire eyes.

She clears her throat, uncrossing her arms and tucking her hair behind her ears. “So, um, now that we’ve got that settled, how about some surfing? How’s it looking today?”

Killian shifts from foot to foot, then glances up at the ocean. “Looks promising. Think you can stay on your feet today?” He grins at her teasingly.

“Hmm, should we bet on it?” she asks, grabbing her surfboard from the car before they begin walking towards the beach.

“I do enjoy making wagers, though I should warn you, I have a tendency to prevail triumphantly,” he says, bumping her shoulder with his as they walk.

“That’s because you haven’t played with me yet,” she says smiling, and as she turns toward him she realizes the effects her words are having on him by the heat apparent in his eyes. _Oops. Was I just flirting? Wait, I’m supposed to be flirting._

They arrive at their usual “spot” and dump their things. He turns towards her, propping up his board in the sand.

“Alright Swan, if you can manage to ride three waves this morning, I will buy you a drink,” he says with extra emphasis on the ‘k.’ 

Emma grins. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll be buying me a drink. I may be old fashioned, but I have no qualms about a lady treating me to a few libations now and again,” he jests, raising his eyebrow as his mouth ticks up at the corner.

“You’re on!” Emma gives him as hard of a look as she can considering how ridiculous he looks with that expression on his face. _Well, ridiculous and hot_. It’s a winning combination.

He jerks his head in the direction of the ocean. “Surf’s up, then.”

Once they are out on the water, they lay across their boards and let the waves roll languidly beneath them, needing a moment to catch their breath after the break-neck pace they set racing each other out there.

“Mmm...” Emma hums, closing her eyes for a moment. “I love the feel of the waves. I mean, the break is a great rush and all, but just that constant roll, the up and down, it’s so soothing.”

Killian nods at her. “It is indeed,” he says, his voice dropping to a hush. “It’s what helped me get over the loss of a loved one.” His eyes dart away from hers.

“I’m sorry,” Emma offers, her heart clenching unexpectedly. “I know what it’s like to lose someone. Or maybe I’m the one who got lost, but still-” she stops herself, realizing she’s letting herself slip into the conversation again a bit more than she’d like.

Killian smiles at her reassuringly and suddenly she forgets everything, his face as brilliant as the sun.

“Thanks, love,” he says softly, before peering behind them to check on the surf.

She looks over her shoulder. “Great. Looks like I may be buying tonight after all unless the surf picks up.”

Killian chuckles. “That’s what you get for making a wager with a pirate.”

She splashes him in the face. “You knew there weren’t any good waves out here!”

“Perhaps,” he responds. “Or perhaps God is just smiling on me today.”

Emma looks at him in disbelief. “Because a cute girl has to buy you a drink?”

“No,” he shakes his head, pausing for a moment. “Because a _beautiful woman_ has to buy me a drink.” His eyes lock onto hers and her breath catches in her throat.

_Damn, he’s good_. She decides to take a risk.

“So, tell me...about this loved one you lost?” she starts, but just then he glances over his shoulder, and her eyes follow his, the best set of the morning coming towards them.

“Some other time, perhaps. I think we had better take this one!” he answers as he begins to paddle quickly. “Come on, Swan. This one has your name on it!”

Emma relents, the thrill of the potential surf causing her adrenaline to spike. Something she tells herself has nothing to do with a certain blue-eyed, dark haired surf instructor.

In the end, she only manages to stay up for one good run, and she willingly admits defeat once they are back on shore.

“Alright, Jones. Looks like I owe you a drink. But I should warn you, I don’t pillage and plunder after the first round.”

Killian raises his eyebrows mischievously. “That’s because you haven’t been out drinking with me, yet,” he teases, dancing into her space.

Emma rolls her eyes. “We’ll see about that. Where do you want to go?”

“Oh, that part is easy, actually. My place.”

Emma raises a cool eyebrow at him, clearing her throat. “Really? That’s how it’s gonna be?”

Killian laughs, standing his ground. “I own a bar, Swan. You may have heard of it. She’s called The Jolly Roger.”

“ _She_? And how am I supposed to buy you a drink at your own bar?” 

“She’s more than just a bar, Swan, you’ll see. And I do still have to pay for the alcohol even if I own the place. That’s just a little something I learned in Business 101.”

“Fair enough. Mind if I bring a friend?” she asks.

“By all means. Bring as many friends as you like. Especially if they’re of the female persuasion.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “One isn’t enough for you?”

Killian shakes his head softly, moving closer. “On the contrary, Swan, one is the only one that I want,” he says, biting his lip as he begins walking backwards. “See you tonight! Text me if you need directions.”

She stands perfectly still as the butterflies invade her stomach. _It’s not a date. It’s an investigation_ , she tells herself. Right.

~~~~

Ruby knocks on her door precisely at 8:30. “Emma!” she squeals when she opens the door, grabbing her in a tight hug. She pulls back, giving her a low whistle as she appraises her attire.

“Girl, you look _good_.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, smiling, as she moves aside for her to enter her apartment. She hasn’t worn her tight red dress in a long time, but for tonight it just seemed appropriate.

Ruby turns around. “Wait, though. You’re not actually wearing those flip flops are you?” She points one manicured finger towards her feet.

“What? What’s wrong with flip flops? We’re in San Diego,” she objects, shrugging her shoulders.

“You do not put snow tires on a Ferrari and you do not pair flip flops with a killer red dress like _that_ ,” she instructs. “Luckily, I wear the same size as you, and I had a feeling you might need these.” She grins, pulling a pair of heels out of her tote bag.

Emma comes closer, the shiny silver heels calling her name. “Oh! Those are pretty,” she says, realizing that she hasn’t put much time or effort into her wardrobe lately.

“Trust me, whoever you’re trying to impress won’t be able to keep his eyes off you in these,” Ruby adds.

“Who says I’m trying to impress anyone?” Emma tries to play it off nonchalantly.

Ruby shakes her head, tsking at her. “Emma, in all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve never looked that good. So, unless you’ve gone bi and you’re about to jump my bones, I’m pretty sure there’s some lucky guy out there we’re going to meet tonight.”

Emma gasps, then breaks out into a full snicker. “Well,” she says, giving Ruby the once over. “If I _did_ have to pick a girl…” 

“I know, I know. It’d totally be me,” she asserts, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Alright, go change your shoes and let’s get out of here.”

Emma just smirks at her, shaking her head.

They take an Uber to the bar, not wanting to risk it with driving. It also gives them options at the end of the night, which is something Ruby makes abundantly clear she intends to fully explore.

When they pull up to the bar, Emma takes stock of the outside, already having seen the place in pictures but never in person. It’s hip and trendy looking, but also with an old-English flair and an obvious pirate theme that she has to grin at. The young and available are already making their way inside, and a rush of anticipation hits her like a drug, making her flush with heat.

As she takes out money to pay the driver, she goes over her objectives for the night. Get closer to the target (i.e. _Jones_ ), make contact with the other members of the gang if possible, and most importantly: keep Ruby in the dark as to what’s really going on. 

Emma watches as Ruby appraises a few of the men walking in the bar, already knowing where this whole thing is headed. She loves her friend, she does, but she also makes the perfect distraction and a possible “in” with the gang. David was fully on-board with the idea, Ruby going way back with his wife, Mary Margaret.

The girls walk towards the entrance, and Emma laughs at the sign by the door. _Pirate’s Rules: 1. Keep yer filthy hands off me wench! 2. Keep yer filthy hands off me rum!_ which is beneath a skull and crossbones. She had already experienced a variance of Rule #1 in person, but she has yet to learn about the rum, and she has to admit her curiosity is peaked.

Inside, the bar is dim but crowded, an assortment of glamorous, tan, beach-fresh faces filling her view. There is attractive woodwork everywhere, the nautical theme present throughout the space with model ships and wheels mounted to the walls.

“You said your friend owns this place?” Ruby asks, looking impressed. 

“Yeah,” Emma answers, spotting dark hair behind the bar. “Let’s go see about a drink.”

She doesn’t even pretend not to be flattered when Killian glances up at her with a stunned look on his face, his gaze immediately softening as he looks her over, a smile creeping over his lips. 

“Emma,” he says, simply, and her heart does a little jig. 

It’s the first time she’s seen him in his street clothes, and she has to admit, she likes the look on him (apparently that’s a common theme where Killian Jones is concerned). He’s wearing a black button up (though she could perhaps call it an _un_ button up, so many of them are left open) that’s rolled up to his elbows and a pair of faded, well worn jeans.

Ruby nudges her arm, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “OH MY GOD. Deets on the total hottie later.”

She makes introductions, then Killian asks politely, “What can I get for you ladies?”

Emma scoffs. “I thought I was supposed to be buying _you_ a drink.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll get your opportunity later,” he says with a salacious wink. “I recommend the Dark’n’Stormy if you like things a bit spicy, and the Mai Tai if you prefer sweet. Both are our house specialties. We handcraft the mixers on site.”

“Mai tai for me,” Ruby tells him. “And the spicy one for Emma. She’s into the whole spicy thing for sure,” she asserts, with a flick of her tongue and a slight raise of one eyebrow.

Emma feels a blush coming on and tries to resist hitting her friend, instead clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ears.

“So, uh, Killian. How long have you owned this place?” she asks, her eyes wandering over the professionally-lit shelves of liquor behind him.

Killian is busy mixing their drinks, but he keeps his eyes on her, everything else like second nature to him.

“My brother Liam and I bought the place about seven years ago, after we left the Navy. We came in here quite a few times while we were on leave and decided to make a go of it ourselves.”

“I’ll bet you look good in a uniform,” Ruby asserts, causing Killian to smile and scratch behind his ear.

“Yes,” Emma finds herself agreeing, and Killian stops what he’s doing for a moment as his eyes catch hers and sparks fly.

Once again, she finds herself uncomfortably warm, and is grateful when her drink is put in front of her. She brings it to her lips, the spicy taste of ginger and rum cooled by ice and she hums her approval. “It’s good,” she says, and Killian smiles.

Ruby also enjoys her drink, rolling her eyes back and licking her lips. “Wow, this is one of the best Mai Tais I’ve ever had! And I’ve had quite a few!” 

Emma chuckles, nodding her head. “It’s true,” she tells Killian.

“Glad you like it. Well, ladies, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I’ve a bar to run. I’ll catch up with you on my break, if that’s alright?”

“Sure,” Emma smiles at him. “Do I get to meet this brother of yours?”

“Yes!” Ruby cheers enthusiastically, and Emma shoots her a look.

Killian smirks. “Aye, he’s around here somewhere. I’ll bring him by when I get the chance. I’m sure he’d be happy to meet the likes of you.”

Ruby half-walks, half-dances towards a table, and Emma has to laugh to herself as she silently scans the bar for the other suspects.

“This night is looking uh - up,” Ruby chirps, smiling, as they take a seat in a booth, the smooth leather caressing her thighs as she scoots inside. She notices a band setting up in the corner, a small dance floor in front of them and she vaguely wonders what type of music they’ll be playing.

The girls chat happily, catching up on their daily lives, and are just about ready for a refill when Killian himself comes towards them, carrying two more drinks.

“At the rate I’m going, Jones, I’m going to owe you a whole lot of drinks,” she tells him, accepting the lowball he offers her.

He just smiles back at her, leaning his hands on the table. “No worries, Swan. I’ve all the time in the world.” Something subtle and secretive passes between them, and again she feels her heart do a funny little jig that she’d prefer to ignore.

Just then, a tall, handsome man with brown curly hair and a familiar twinkle in his blue eyes walks up to them, clapping Killian on the shoulder. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, little brother?”

Killian all but rolls his eyes at him. “I believe you mean younger brother?” He turns back to the ladies, gesturing towards Emma. “This is the fair Emma Swan, and the saucy vixen there is Ruby...I don’t believe I caught your last name, lass?”

“It’s Lucas,” she says with a feral grin, her eyes locking on Liam as she offers him her hand.

He takes it, smiling warmly at her. “Ruby Lucas, the name’s Liam Jones, and the pleasure is all mine.”

Emma has to restrain herself from scoffing when Liam lifts Ruby’s hand to his lips, giving her a soft kiss in what is obviously a familial way with the ladies. Ruby giggles and Emma shoots Killian a look, who shrugs his shoulders unapologetically.

During this exchange, three more men walk up behind them, and suddenly Emma is feeling a bit surrounded by male attention, her heart ticking up a notch.

“Hey dude! I was wondering when we’d get to meet your new babe, Jones,” Whale exclaims, slapping him on the back as he grins at Emma.

“I’m not his-” “She’s not my-” they both spit out at the same time, but the guys just smile and exchange glances, and she sighs in resignation.

“Emma, Ruby, these are my mates Victor, Robin, and Jefferson,” he gestures towards the men, and Emma quickly makes mental notes about their appearance and behavior.

“Hey,” she and Ruby both say together, giving a small half-wave.

“We saw you out there on the water this morning. You had a pretty solid performance on that last set,” Whale compliments.

“I’ve got a good teacher,” Emma explains, her eyes locking on Killian’s as he smiles back at her, ducking his head in a bashful gesture.

“Yeah? Well, anytime you ladies want to hang loose, you’re more than welcome to join us!” Whale exclaims, and she’s almost glad to see them moving on, heading towards an open table in the back.

She knows she’s here for the case, but it’s Friday night and she doesn’t know if it’s the booze or the company, but she feels unusually happy, and she doesn't want anything to ruin it.

The Jones Brother make their apologies and head back to the bar, Liam slapping Killian on the back and chatting animatedly in what she can assume is excitement over their little introduction, and a part of her aches, wishing it were all real and simple.

She turns back to Ruby and her drink, taking a long sip until Ruby hits her on the arm.

“What the hell, Emma?” 

“What?” she asks, affronted.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all the hot guys?”

Emma shrugs, pretending it’s all inconsequential.

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Yes! I would have worn my _shorter_ skirt.”

The girls both snicker, stealing glances towards the bar. They’re halfway through their third round when the band finally starts playing, the beginning chords of “Brown Eyed Girl” fill the air. Ruby turns to her with a super excited expression. “Emma! It’s my sooong! Let’s dance!”

Emma rolls her eyes. “But you don’t even have brown eyes!”

Ruby scoffs, grabbing her hand. “Would you come on already!”

The girls make their way towards the dance floor, and Emma feels mildly self-conscious as she notices looks from both the Jones brothers and the three surfer dudes in the corner.

_Are we really doing this? God, we’re really doing this_ , she huffs to herself, glad for the liquid courage. Once they start dancing, however, several other groups of people join them - primarily women - and she actually starts enjoying herself, her movements free and easy. She never had this growing up, she was always sort of a loner, so it’s nice to be out with a friend having a good time on the weekend. This is what she’s supposed to be doing on a Friday night in Southern California, right?

Two more songs in, and suddenly Jefferson and Whale are there, smiling in greeting. “Ladies! Mind if we join you?” Jefferson asks.

Emma doesn’t like the look of him - there’s something wild and unpredictable in his eyes that makes her nervous - but she nods her head in agreement, knowing it’s a step forward she’d be stupid to decline.

“Emma,” she yells over the noise of the music, offering her hand in the small space between them.

“Jefferson,” he says, giving her a quick squeeze, and she can smell the beer on his breath, as well as a bit too much cologne she tries hard not to choke on. The song ends and the band picks up “Don’t Worry Baby” by the Beach Boys, nice and slow. Emma silently curses. 

Jefferson just shrugs, holding out his arms to her, so she places her left hand on his shoulder as he puts his on her hip, drawing her close. They sway softly in time to the beat, and she tries to keep her wits about her, working whatever angle she can think of.

“So, Jefferson, what do you do?” she asks, casually.

He juts out his lower lip. “I surf.”

“Yeah, uh, I knew that. But what do you do for a job?” she presses.

He appears unfazed as he answers her. “Well, let’s just say I’m independently wealthy.”

She raises her eyebrows at that. “Ah. So, like a trust fund baby or something?”

“You could say that,” he answers with a grin. “How about you?” He looks her over and Emma feels momentarily nervous, as if he can see right through her.

“Advertising exec. Well, I mean, junior exec anyway. Working my way up the corporate ladder and all that.”

“Hmph,” he answers, as if it’s completely irrelevant to his interests. This is typically the moment she makes an excuse to leave, except tonight she doesn’t have to. Her eyes widen as a very intense-looking Killian Jones approaches them, the way his jaw is clenching reminding her of the sign by the door: _Keep yer hands off me wench!_ She’d be slightly worried if she wasn’t so immediately turned on by the whole thing.

“Jefferson,” he says coolly, raising his voice only as loud as necessary to be heard over the music. “Mind if I cut in?”

Jefferson glances between her and Killian and gives a nod of understanding, releasing his grip on her. “No problem, bud. I was just going to get another drink.” Then he vanishes in the crowd, and Emma sighs in relief.

“May I?” Killian asks, extending his arm, and Emma is once again taken aback by this man’s sense of chivalry, a trait she considers all but dead.

This time as he pulls her close, she inhales deeply, smelling fresh spicy soap mingling with the heady aroma of his skin, and she’s glad there isn’t a hint of cologne to mask the scent as it hits all the right notes on her olfactory receptors.

“He wasn’t bothering you, was he?” Killian asks.

“No,” Emma refutes, shaking her head.

“Oh,” Killian says, and she can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

“But I’m glad you cut in,” she adds, running her hands up his arms to his shoulders.

Killian smiles at that, pulling her closer and leaning to whisper in her ear.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emma.”

She turns her face until her lips are close to his ear, his whiskers tickling her cheek. “Me too.” As she sighs, relaxing into his embrace, she realizes it’s the truth.

Suddenly her heart starts beating faster and it’s all too much - too loud, too many people, too many thoughts running rampant in her head.

“Can you just- I have to-” she sputters as she pulls back, disentangling herself from his warmth and comfort and the smell of him that she just wants to sink her teeth into.

She turns away from his confused expression, pushing through the crowd towards the back hallway, which she assumes leads to the bathrooms or perhaps an alley she can escape to. Anything to help clear her head. Maybe she just needs some fresh air-

But it’s all for naught when a strong hand envelopes her wrist just as she enters the hallway, turning her back towards the bar.

“Emma! Is everything alright?” Killian is looking at her full of genuine concern and solicitude and it’s all she can do to keep herself from crying.

“No. It’s not alright,” she answers, stopping as he drops her wrist. “I like you!” she all but yells at him.

He pulls back, his face an equal mixture of surprise and confusion, then he steps forward slowly, a small smile curling his lips. “I like you too, Emma.”

Something about the way he says it, so full of honesty and unchecked feeling, or perhaps it’s the rum, or the fact that the band’s now playing the Beatle’s “Do You Wanna Know a Secret” leads Emma to throw caution to the wind. She grabs his shirt, pushing him hard against the wall, and then she’s reaching up on her tippy toes and kissing him, her heart in her throat as their lips connect softly at first, then intensely only a second later.

The kiss tastes like rum and spice, and when his tongue slides past her lips she groans quietly as she sways on her feet. Luckily, he wraps his arms around her, steadying her, and she throws herself even harder into the kiss, pressing herself eagerly against him, seeking warmth and friction. His scruff tickles her nose as they dip and turn, and he slides one hand up her back and into her hair, cradling her head close. His other hand stays respectfully above her backside, and she silently curses him for being such a gentleman.

She explores his neck and shoulders, mapping out every tight muscle and smooth line, then she’s raking her fingers into the hair at the nape of his nape, the thick silky tresses like heaven against her fingertips as he curls his tongue around hers like he’s done this with her a thousand times.

When she feels a twitch against her stomach, she’s startled awake, the trance broken. _What the hell am I doing?_ she chides herself. _Fuck_.

Pulling back, he chases her lips, and she tilts her head forward, resting her forehead against his and putting her lips just out of reach.

“That was…” he breathes out, and Emma can only grin, because she knows exactly what that was. But reality washes over her, and she’s mired in a rush of anxiety that she has never been incredibly good at dealing with on her own.

“Probably a mistake,” she says softly, watching as his face falls. She steps back, distancing herself. “I...I gotta go.”

Then she’s running away, striding through the bar until she finds Ruby, not bothering to see what the damage is that she’s left behind. All she can think is that she’s in too deep and she needs to surface for air.

“Time to go, Ruby,” she commands unceremoniously, not wanting to leave her behind in the company of her suspects. If she’d been talking to Liam perhaps- but no, she didn’t even want to follow that train of thought. She still didn’t know who the guilty parties were here.

“But I was just-” Ruby starts until she assesses Emma’s appearance. “OK, let’s get out of here.” She gets up from where she’s sitting next to Victor and gives a half-hearted goodbye before they’re making their way straight towards the door.

They don’t hear Liam as Killian comes back to the bar, his eyes dull and unfocused as he watches the girls leave. “What’d you do this time, Killian?”

“I don’t know,” he answers with a shake of his head, raking a hand through his hair. “But I hope I can figure it out.” He watches as Emma disappears into the night, the red of her dress leaving an impression on his irises that he’d be hard pressed to forget.


	4. Chapter 4

When Emma wakes up the next morning, the first thought that goes through her mind is _Shit. Shit shit shit, what the hell did I do?_

It’s exactly what Ruby asked her last night, but she refused to talk about it, making for a long and uncomfortable car ride back to her apartment. Her friend hugged her before she left, looking at her thoughtfully as she pulled back, rubbing her arms. 

“He seems like a great guy, Emma. Whatever it is that’s holding you back, I wish you’d just push through it,” she’d said, tilting her head at her. Then she got a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “And um, if you need moral support, I’m more than happy to go on a double date with you guys and Killian’s brother. I mean, you know, I can take one for the team and all that.” 

She grinned at her and Emma couldn’t help but grin back. “Thanks, Rubes. I’ll let you know if I need your _‘help.’_ ” 

Once Ruby left though, Emma closed the door and put her back to it, sinking down to the floor as hot tears spilled over her cheeks. _Secrets and lies_. Who would get hurt this time? She went to bed with a heavy heart, lying there replaying the evening’s events and trying to make sense of it all.

In the clarity of the morning light, it becomes apparent just who might be hurting, and it’s all her fault. _Killian_. She can still see his face when she had told him it was a mistake to kiss him, and her heart clenches painfully in her chest. She has to make this right. The thought that she may have caused him pain makes her feel a bit guilty, and the whole case could be lost due to her inability to keep her wits about her. David had warned her to keep her walls up, and she is failing miserably.

It’s just so much harder than she thought it would be. And the attraction she feels for her suspect is impossible to ignore. How could anyone have predicted what they would feel for each other in so short a time? She can hardly believe it herself.

Emma glances at the clock - 7 a.m. If she hurries, maybe she can catch him at the beach after his morning surf. She pushes the covers off and springs out of bed with a sense of purpose, heading straight to her bathroom. Now she just needs to figure out what to say, which is infinitely harder, and it consumes her thoughts the entire time she gets ready and drives to the beach.

When she arrives at their usual spot, however, Killian is nowhere to be found. She scans the water over and over for his sleek black hair, but to no avail. The rest of the guys aren’t out there either, and a little alarm goes off in the back of her mind. Maybe they just decided to surf somewhere else today? It’s unusual, but it’s certainly a possibility. Why then does she feel such an impending sense of doom?

Just as she’s contemplating this and wishing the FBI had more resources available for round-the-clock surveillance, her phone rings in her pocket. Pulling it out, she sees the familiar name and number and accepts the call, bringing the phone to her ear. 

“Swan.”

“Emma, I need you to come in right away. There’s been another heist this morning, and this time we can add assault with a deadly weapon to the charges,” Regina says in a charged voice.

“Assault? That’s not their usual M.O.” Emma’s mind begins to race, a sour taste forming in her mouth. _Damnit Killian, where are you?_

“I know. Frankly, I think they got caught by surprise. The security guard working the night shift forgot his wallet and went back to get it. When he walked in on the heist, he got shot in the chest. The police were able to question him before he lost consciousness. Four suspects, matching our little surfing gang’s descriptions,” Regina deadpans. 

“He saw their faces!?” she asks incredulously.

“No, they were wearing masks. But they fit the height and weight profiles.”

Emma huffs. “Still not enough to convict anyone.” A sliver of hope still remains, and she tucks it away inside her heart.

“I know, but there’s more. They called themselves pirates.”

Emma’s mind flashes to her conversation with Killian just yesterday. _“I am a pirate, love.”_ God, she’s been so stupid. For ever thinking, for ever hoping- 

“I’ll be right there,” she says, lowering the phone from her ear and hitting the end call button. A wave rolls over her feet, and she kicks at the water angrily. It doesn’t escape her that the heist occurred this morning and Killian and the others are nowhere to be found. Why does her life always have to be so complicated?

She wants nothing more than to go home and curl up in a ball and wallow in this fact, but her boss is expecting her at the office, and so she straightens her shoulders and heads towards her car.

~~~~

When she gets to the office, she spots David’s sedan already parked near the door. As soon as she steps off the elevator, he’s waiting for her, holding out a cup of coffee which she happily accepts, thanking him with a weary sigh.

“Rough night?” he says, looking her over.

“Something like that.” She averts her eyes carefully.

“Come on, Regina’s waiting for us in her office.”

She is grateful for his strong presence beside her as they walk down the hallway. Somehow it feels like Regina will be able to see right through her, and she knows David will help steady her. He’s always had her back and it’s comforting when things get dicey on the job.

She remembers all too well their first case together. She made the rookie mistake of going after a suspect down an alleyway with no backup and could’ve gotten shot in the back if it had not been for David. He took the guy down with his gun from the second story fire escape, and she had never been more indebted to anyone in her entire life. She knew she could trust him 100%, and that was more than she could say for most of the people who had wandered in and out of her life. David was the kind of guy who always did the right thing - the heroic thing - and it inspired her to be her best self also. She’d lay down her life for him, too, if necessary and it was that absolute assurance that made them a formidable team.

“Nolan, Swan, come sit down. I have details for you about the heist.” Looking regal and official in a pantsuit, her short dark hair expertly styled, Regina is standing at her desk which is covered in manila files.

They take the seats opposite her, and she begins filling them in on the heist as she paces the room. A Monet had been on loan at the San Diego Museum of Art, and there was a brief period of time in the early morning between guard changes when it had been left vulnerable. If there is any question about who the culprits are, the scrap of black fabric with a white slash across it that Regina produces in an evidence bag leaves no room for doubt.

Done with her brief, Regina sits down, pulling her chair forward. “Tell me about your rendezvous last night, Ms. Swan. Were you able to get in with the group?”

“I got an introduction, yes. And a dance with Jefferson before Jones interrupted.”

“Interrupted?” Regina asks, arching one brow.

Emma clears her throat, shifting in her seat. “You know, the whole ‘may I cut in?’ thing.”

“Hmm,” Regina answers, her eyes hard and calculating, making Emma squirm. “Did you get any intel?”

“He confirmed that he doesn’t work for a living and is independently wealthy. He seemed to deflect when I asked for details, said he surfs for a living,” she says with a wave of her hand.

“Hmph,” David scoffs, shaking his head. “Must be nice.”

“The guys referred to me as Jones’ new babe, so there’s that, I guess,” she adds, avoiding David’s gaze as she feels a blush creeping over her cheeks.

“Good, you’re making headway it sounds like.” Regina nods thoughtfully, sitting back in her chair. “Look, we may _know_ it’s them doing the heists, but until we get hard evidence they’re going to continue to live outside the law, surfing by day and stealing by night. And now they’ve assaulted someone, which means the stakes just got higher. We need to bring these guys in before anybody else gets hurt.”

Emma and David nod, sitting up in their chairs as if they’re about to leave.

“Nolan, you’re dismissed. Swan, I’d like a quick word with you before you go.”

Emma looks nervously up at David who smirks at her like she’s been called into the principal’s office. _Damn. So much for her partner’s support._

She slumps back into the scratchy office chair. Looking over her shoulder, she sees David close the door with a definitive _thunk_ and her palms are suddenly sweaty. 

Steeling herself, she meets Regina’s eyes, not sure what’s coming next.

“Ms. Swan, I just thought you might like to chat a bit more about how the undercover work is going. FBI regulations insist that a supervisor maintain full confidence with their undercover agents. Is there anything else you’d like to share? Perhaps _not_ in the company of your partner? Nolan’s a good agent, but he can be a bit...overprotective at times.” Regina gives her a knowing smirk.

Emma smiles tightly, relieved at the camaraderie her boss is offering instead of some sort of reprimand like she was expecting. Still, the idea of telling Regina _everything_ isn’t exactly putting her at ease. She doesn’t want to talk about her relationship with Jones with _anyone_ , but especially not her cold-as-ice boss. What can she possibly say that would make sense? I’m harboring feelings for a suspect and I feel naughty and also a bit like this might be the best thing that ever happened to me? Sighing, she figures she’ll just put it out there - rip the bandaid off, so to speak.

“Well...we uh, kissed last night. At his bar,” she starts awkwardly. She meets Regina’s eyes hesitantly, and is surprised to see that she looks completely unimpressed.

“That’s not surprising. You are a beautiful woman, Ms. Swan, and you’ve shown obvious interest in him,” she says, gesturing towards Emma as if it pains her to say it.

“I think he...he may have feelings for me,” she continues before she loses her nerve. “Do you think we should change tactics? I didn’t mean to screw things up.” She sits up in her chair, placing one hand on the desk as if she needs the support. She doesn’t mention she may have feelings for him too, but her ears burn at the thought of it.

“On the contrary, Emma, this is just what I had in mind.” Regina leans forward, clasping her hands together.

“You mean you wanted for us to become an item?” Emma asks with a raise of her eyebrows.

“I’m surprised at how quickly it’s happening, but yes, that was the idea. How else did you expect to gain his trust and infiltrate the gang? By playing hopscotch and baking cookies together? You can’t be _that_ naive, Ms. Swan.” She puts her hand on her hip, exasperated.

Emma is flabbergasted, her eyes blown wide. “Wow, I just didn’t expect the FBI to encourage its agents to get _physical_ with suspects.”

“I didn’t say to _sleep_ with him, Emma. Just, you know, become his girlfriend. Get invited to special gatherings that only an intimate would be invited to. Hopefully you can play it coy long enough to get some solid evidence on the guys, and then he’ll be behind bars. You’ll never have to see him again.”

“ _You’ll never have to see him again._ ” The words form a lump in Emma’s throat, and she folds her arms protectively over her body as she considers that prospect.

At her apparent silence, Regina continues. “Look, Emma. I chose you for this case because I thought you’d be a good match for Jones based on your profiles. I also know your personal background and the hard edge you bring to your relationships. I figured if anyone could handle staying closed off, it would be you. I hope I wasn’t wrong about that. As a fellow woman, I’ve been impressed by your toughness and I’d like to see you go further in your career.”

The thought of Regina matching her profile with Killian’s has her feeling queasy for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that she actually thought they’d be a good match. She thought this was a job assignment, not a blind date based on the results of a compatibility survey. On the upside, she’s surprised by the hint of flattery - she never knew where she stood with Regina, so it is good to know she has earned her respect.

“Thank you, Regina. I won’t let you down.”

“So we’re clear then?”

“Perfectly. I’ll let you know when I get something - anything.” She puts her hands on the arms of her chair to get up, then she winces. “There is a small problem.”

“What’s that?” Regina asks, looking unamused.

“I ran out on him last night - after the kiss.” There it is again - that painful clench in her heart that she’d like so much to ignore.

Regina just smiles at that. “Better put on some extra charm then, Ms. Swan. Play the foster child card, use it to your advantage. He’s bound to forgive you if what I’ve heard so far is true.” She sounds almost proud of her.

“Isn’t that risky? Giving him information about my true identity?” Emma asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“What you learn in undercover is that a part of yourself always leaks through. Don’t try too hard to fight it, just let it work for you. It’s easier to keep your story straight if it’s rooted in truth. If he Googles you he’ll just find your profile at Davis & Sons Marketing. He won’t know you're an agent unless he follows you here, so don’t let him.”

With that, Emma rises from her seat, feeling more self-assured. “Thank you, Regina.”

Her boss starts opening a file, not looking up as she replies, “Good talk, Ms. Swan. Now get out of here and go catch me some pirates.”

_Guess that means I’m dismissed?_ she thinks as she turns and exits. She walks down the hallway to her shared office.

Collapsing into her swivel chair, she takes a sip of her coffee.

“What was that all about?” David asks curiously.

“She wanted to know how the undercover op is going, assess my psyche I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders.

David nods. “Makes sense. Anything you want to tell me, Emma?” There’s an air of scrutiny in his voice, and Emma tries hard to appear nonchalant, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. _What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him._

“Nope,” she answers, shaking her head and putting her feet up on the desk.

“Still coming for dinner tonight, or do you have plans with your new _boyfriend?_ ” David asks, earning him an eyeroll. Internally, she’s flinching, but she can’t let David see how much his words have bothered her.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Dave, and yes, I’m planning on coming for dinner.”

“Good. Mary Margaret bought a tri-tip she wants me to grill. It’s way too much for just the two of us.”

“I’ll be there. Wouldn’t want you to risk ruining your girlish figure with too much protein consumption.”

David grins. “Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

She grins back. “You’re not planning on sending me back once the _real_ child arrives, are you?” she asks with just a hint of bitterness in her voice.

David’s face becomes serious. “Emma...of course not. You’ll always be a part of our family, like it or not. Besides, children need aunts and uncles, don’t they?”

She nods, tearing at the paper wrapper around her coffee, before she offers him a wan smile. “Sure do. I hope you don’t mind when I feed it lots of sugar and caffeine and then hand him or her back to you!”

David snorts. “I would expect nothing less.” He resumes looking at his computer screen and Emma takes it as her cue to leave. 

“I’m gonna head home for a bit, I’ve got some laundry to do. See you at 4?”

“Sounds good, see you Emma.”

~~~~

As Emma drives to the Nolan’s later that afternoon for dinner, she considers how important they’ve become to her. She remembers meeting Mary Margaret for the first time. She was so warm, so impossibly cheerful. And she’d never forget the look in her eyes when Emma told her she had no family, that she’d had grown up in the foster system. It was usually a very uncomfortable moment for Emma and one she tried to avoid as much as possible, but Mary Margaret asked about her plans for Thanksgiving, and there was just no getting around it. 

Of course, Mary Margaret had immediately invited her to join them for the holiday, and had left no room for argument. She had tried to feel grumpy about it, but it was hard when she showed up and was made to feel immediately at home, the Nolan’s dog Geronimo greeting her with a hearty wag of his tail. She expected it to be awkward, but it turned out to be anything but, which made it easy to accept further invitations for dinners and outings that eventually turned into a weekly ritual.

So here she is, on her way to Saturday dinner, feeling like a part of the family that sometimes includes Ruby or some of their other friends. On the passenger seat sits a container of brownie bites from Whole Foods, one of her favorites. Her hosts are kind enough to provide her with a meal and good company, so the deal is she brings the dessert and sometimes a bottle of wine or some beer. They know she has a huge sweet tooth, so they allow her this bit of indulgence, even though the Nolans try to eat as healthy as possible for most of the week.

Even more so now that Mary Margaret is pregnant. She’s really happy for them, she is, but a little part of her is still fearful that they won’t have as much time for her once the baby arrives, or that they won’t want her around. She’s almost thirty years old and she’s grown well past the little lost girl, but every once in awhile she still pokes her head up from the void and rattles Emma’s comfortable existence.

It’s a good reason for her to branch out a little, perhaps try and find someone else to spend time with. She has a few girlfriends, yes, but no one who feels like family the way the Nolans do. It’s hard to find people who you can connect with, who you instantly share chemistry with, and once again Killian’s face flashes into her mind.

He’s so easy to be around, so supportive and encouraging when he’s teaching her and easy to joke around with when they’re out on the water waiting for a set. If he wasn’t- If _she_ wasn’t- what would things be like between them? Would he be joining her right now, on their way to dinner? How would they have even met? Would she eventually have stumbled her way into The Jolly Roger, her breath taken away when she meets the sapphire eyes of its proprietor? Her heart suddenly aches with a longing she didn’t know she was capable of.

Emma continues to daydream as she makes her way through the Saturday traffic up the coast to Carlsbad. The Nolans have a newer tract home on one of those perfect, tree-lined streets that she and Ruby like to refer to as “Wisteria Lane,” even though it’s actually called Dogwood Road.

She walks in through the open garage, setting the brownie bites on the kitchen island and continuing on to the backyard, where David is manning the grill. Geronimo greets her with a nudge to her thighs, and she reaches down to rub behind his ears. 

“Hey guys!”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret sets down a plate with hummus and veggies on the outdoor table and turns towards her. Her pregnancy has made her cheeks pleasantly plump, made especially noticeable because of the short cut of her hair, and Emma smiles, thinking she looks adorable. The meet each other in the middle for a warm hug as David smiles at them admiringly.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she pulls back.

Mary Margaret shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, fine. I’m just lucky I haven’t really had any morning sickness. That was the one thing I was expecting about being pregnant. I had no idea about all the other weird things. No one tells you about round ligament pain or insomnia.” She waves her hands in the air expressively.

“Hmm. Well, you can tell me all about it when it’s my turn.” Emma ducks her head, suddenly embarrassed, and tucks her hair behind her ears. “I mean, you know, _if_ I ever have a child of my own.”

Mary Margaret gets that wistful look in her eyes again, but then she smiles. “You will, Emma. If that’s what you want. I truly believe that. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

Emma feels a strong need to change the subject, but then David chimes in with a smartass comment. 

“Oh? Haven’t you heard, Mary Margaret? Emma already has a new boyfriend!” He grins, waving his BBQ tongs in the air.

Emma glares at him, pursing her lips together. “David,” she warns, tilting her head at him accusingly.

Mary Margaret grimaces. “Yeah, sorry Emma. I know your case is confidential and all, but David can’t keep his mouth shut. I think secretly he’s just jealous you’re getting paid to hang out and surf all day.”

“Ha! It’s not _all_ day...just an hour or two in the morning three days a week.” She plops herself into an outdoor chair and grabs a carrot from the plate.

“How’s that going? It must be pretty hard working undercover. And pretending to be someone’s girlfriend-” Mary Margaret’s eyes grow impossibly wide. “Ruby already told me he’s _extremely_ handsome!”

Emma practically spits out her carrot. “Oh my God! Is that all you guys do? Sit around and discuss my case?”

Mary Margaret wrinkles her nose as she tilts her head side to side and considers this. “Well, it’s definitely _way_ more interesting than trying to pick a paint color for the nursery!”

David finishes what he’s doing with the grill and comes over, sneaking in between them to grab a vegetable from the tray. She can see the concern in his eyes as he peers down at her.

“We’re just worried about you, Emma. _I’m_ worried about you. This Jones character seems as unsavory as they come and the way you blush when you talk about him-” David shakes his head. “I just don’t want some handsome con man doing the same thing to you that Neal did.”

She does not blush when she talks about him! OK, well maybe a little. Speaking of blushing, Emma can feel the heat spreading to her cheeks, and she crosses her arms over her chest, glaring up at David. _How dare he bring up Neal! And in comparison to Killian. They are hardly the same thing._

“Oh! So you admit he’s handsome then?” she asks, attempting to divert the subject once again.

“I may be a guy, but yeah, I think just about anyone would say that.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking thoughtful.

The corners of Emma’s mouth turn up in the whisper of a smile, and she grabs a piece of broccoli, swirling it into the hummus.

David gets a skeptical look in his eye. “Dammit, Emma. You’re changing the subject again!”

“You should see me in the interrogation room.” Emma smirks, popping the food in her mouth. She sighs loudly as she chews, and watches as both David and Mary Margaret wait for her to finish, like they really _are_ her parents. She swallows before she continues, looking between them both.

“Look, what happened with Neal was a one-time thing. I was young and stupid and I let my feelings for him blind me from the truth. But the fact that my first boyfriend was a thief and almost got me sent to prison for him has nothing to do with my current case. Nothing. OK? I’m a big girl now, and I can handle this.” Maybe if she says it enough, she’ll actually believe it.

“I dunno. It kind of has some similarities, doesn’t it?” David asks, scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully.

Emma’s eyes almost pop out of her head. “Yeah, except for the part where I’m an FBI agent and the guy is a suspect in a case!” She can’t believe she even has to explain this to them.

“It didn’t sound like that’s how you two were behaving last night,” Mary Margaret says quietly with that “you know I’m right” face.

Oh my God, she is gonna _kill_ Ruby. And then strangle her. And then kill her again.

_Deep breaths, Emma. Deep breaths._ She closes her eyes for a beat, gathering her calm.

“I may have gotten a little... _enthusiastic_ in my approach last night, OK? But it’s under control. Regina and I had a talk and she’s fully supportive of me getting closer to the subject, even becoming his girlfriend,” she explains calmly.

David just shakes his head again, placing one hand on her shoulder. “That man is way too charming to be reputable. Whatever you do, Emma, don’t trust him. Even if he’s the perfect pretend boyfriend. It can only end badly.” He looks her right in the eyes, and Emma nods slightly.

_“Okay,”_ she says, exaggerating the vowels. “I promise not to trust him, alright? Happy?”

David nods, dropping his hand and Mary Margaret looks between them both, a furrow on her brow. 

“Where are my manners? Let me get you a drink, Emma. Is red wine OK? I have a Zinfandel open.” Emma can tell she’s trying to make her feel comfortable again, but it’s going to take more than a glass of wine to do it, even though it couldn’t hurt.

“Sure, that sounds great,” she replies, spreading her lips in a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she watches them both head inside to get drinks for everyone. She’s getting tired of everyone assuming that she’s easily swayed by a pair of blue eyes and a British accent. First she gets knocked for having walls, then she gets treated like she’s incapable of not falling for a pretty face. This is a case, nothing more, and David of all people should understand that. 

Even if she secretly wishes it were more, what would that happy ending look like? She can’t even imagine it. This is what she tells herself, even as she looks over at the fourth chair at the table and wonders how Killian would get along with David and Mary Margaret.

She needs to get her head examined before these wild fantasies get her into trouble. She also needs to figure out what she’s going to do about the instigator of said fantasies. Chances are Killian’s still wondering what the hell happened last night, and even if she can’t trust _him_ , she needs to get him to trust _her_.

Maybe Regina is right - she can root her explanation in the truth, explain about her trust issues and how she grew up in the system. It isn’t something she would normally tell a guy after so short a time - not that she’s had an actual boyfriend since Neal - but it just might work. If nothing else, it would make him feel sorry for her and convey a vulnerability that someone as protective as Killian just might fall for.

Eying her phone sitting out on the table, she considers sending him a text message, but then decides against it. It’s not what she would do normally, and it’s not what she’s gonna do now. The guarded, closed-off Emma would make the guy sweat, maybe even until Monday morning, when she’s scheduled to meet him again for a surf lesson.

She can only hope playing hard to get won’t ruin her chances with a guy like Killian Jones, even if it _is_ only pretend.

~~~~

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, and Mary Margaret does her best to console Emma after David’s haranguing. They watch a movie on Netflix together before Mary Margaret’s yawning signals that it’s time to go home.

Sunday Emma starts with a brisk jog to clear her head, pushing herself hard up and down the hills until she finally collapses on the grass in front of her apartment building. She follows this up with a series of pushups and plank variations which make her feel strong and powerful, something she needs to harness right now if she’s going to be ready for Monday morning. 

Later in the afternoon she goes shoe shopping. Might as well be prepared in case her role as “girlfriend” requires her to look hot again. She’s definitely not going to be calling Ruby to ask for heels to borrow. The shopping gods must be smiling on her, because she manages to snap a few really cute pairs on sale.

Just as she’s attempting to find her car in the mall parking lot, she gets a text on her phone. 

Killian Jones: _Hey Beautiful. Are we still on for lessons tomorrow?_

She smiles despite herself, biting her lower lip as her heart races uncontrollably. 

Emma Swan: _Yes, we’re still on. See you at 7!_

She breathes a sigh of relief that he was the first one to initiate contact, which she considers a good sign. But she can’t seem to get her heart rate under control as her footsteps echo across the parking lot, and she’s still smiling like a fool at her phone screen.

_Ugh! Snap out of it Emma!_ Maybe she needs to get laid or something. She checks her contacts to see if she still has Graham’s number. He is a sweet guy who she had a short fling with. Neither one of them was interested in a relationship, so it didn’t really go anywhere. But as her thumb hovers over the message icon, she stops herself. For some reason the thought of going back to him seems...wrong. No, she needs to focus on the task at hand, her entire career depends on it. So, she hits the home button instead and and shoves her packages in her trunk.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma wakes up early Monday morning, before her alarm even goes off. She tries squeezing her eyes shut and pulling the sheet over her head, but it’s no use. The summer sun is already streaming in through the shutters and the room is flooded in light.

It doesn’t help that her stomach is twisted in knots. She isn’t sure if it’s the prospect of seeing Killian again and having to open up to him that has her on edge, or if it’s just the whole case and her part in it. Remembering vaguely how excited she had been when Regina first told her she was going undercover, she groans loudly, throwing the covers back and jumping out of bed.

She readies herself quickly, stopping to put a bit of concealer under her eyes when she sees the shadows lurking there. It does a bit of good, but she rubs on some cream blush as well just for good measure. 

Breakfast is eaten carelessly, mindless spoonfuls of oatmeal shoved into her mouth as she mulls over what she’s going to say and how she should probably act when she sees Killian. She’s decided a short apology might be the best approach, followed up with her sympathy-inducing story of abandonment and orphanhood. It’s a lot to put out there, but she hopes it will have the intended effect.

Driving with the top down seems to be her new favorite thing, and the combined effects of the sun and wind soothe her as she drives over the hills to get to the beach. By the time she reaches the parking lot, her mane is wild and tangled, and she has to comb her fingers through it to restore some order.

She’s early, so she gets her board and bag out and puts them down, then leans back against the stone wall, crossing her arms and gazing at the multi-million dollar houses with ocean views. Just as she’s debating whether the beige modern or the grey-and-white nantucket is her favorite, she spies Killian’s black truck driving up, and she straightens herself, tugging at her wetsuit as if the clingy material could somehow be wrinkled.

He pulls into the spot right next to hers so she’s looking right at him, and she forces herself to meet his eyes and smile, but it’s weak at best. Killian looks almost surprised to see her, his eyebrows lifting slightly. He ducks his head and opens the car door, and she shifts in her spot, watching his every move.

He gets his surfboard and bag out of the back and turns towards her. Walking slowly, softly, he stops in front of her, dropping his bag on the ground and righting his surfboard in between them like a shield. She’s struck again by the thought that he looks like he walked out of a magazine, his hair tousled in a perfectly careless way, while his scruff makes him look slightly rugged and very, very attractive.

“Morning, love.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which are missing their usual sparkle. 

“Hey,” she says, sliding her hands down her backside to hide them in her pockets before she realizes she isn’t wearing jeans. He remains quiet as if he’s waiting for her to make the next move.

_Bandaid, bandaid, bandaid._

“So, uh, I want to apologize about Friday,” she starts, waving a hand in the air.

He shakes his head slightly. “No need to apologize, Swan. Although you did leave before buying me that drink you owed me.” 

She looks up and the wicked smirk is back in place. Here’s the cocky bastard, and him she can handle.

“Bad form, some might say,” he says quietly, his eyes focused on hers as he sways closer to her, invading her space. “Though you were in fine form in that hallway,” he continues with a naughty wink, tilting his head as he studies her.

Emma feels her cheeks flaming, a genuine smile spreading across her lips as she stands there under his scrutiny. 

“Was I?” she asks with a flutter of her eyelashes, while noticing that she’s pushed herself away from the wall unconsciously.

“Aye,” he answers, his eyes darting to her mouth. “Like I said, nothing to apologize for.”

Emma bites her lower lip. She knows he’s letting her off the hook, giving her the easy way out, but she can’t allow herself to take it. That wouldn’t create the type of confidence she needs to build with him, the kind where he’ll tell her all his secrets. _Give a little, get a little._

“It’s just...about running out on you...” she bites her thumb, looking away nervously. “I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time, and I…”

Killian’s face turns serious, and his earnest eyes beg her to continue as he lightly brushes his fingertips against her hand, almost as if he wants to hold it but is restraining himself. The delicate touch send shivers up to her elbow as if she’s hit her funny bone.

“God, sorry.” She pulls her hand away because she’s startled by the sensation, but makes it look as if she does it to tuck her hair behind her ears, and he smiles in resignation. 

But then he looks into her eyes searchingly and speaks gently, slowly. “I can see that you’re afraid...to talk, to reveal yourself. But you don’t have to say anything, love, you’re somewhat of an open book.”

“Am I?” she asks, surprised, her heart ticking up a notch.

“Aye,” he says, nodding. “I’ve seen that look before, the look someone has when they’ve had to go it alone, and that’s what I see in your eyes sometimes, when you’re not busy being tough.”

Emma swallows thickly, wondering how he could possibly know that. “You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?” 

She suddenly feels exposed, the strong need to wrap her arms around herself hard to ignore, but she resists it just the same. If he’s figured that out about her, what else might he be able to figure out? A tremor of anxiety rocks her body.

He reaches out again, and this time his fingers curl lightly around hers, the contact warm and comforting. Their eyes meet again before he answers her, and she holds his gaze even though she’s afraid his piercing eyes will find her out, delve inside her soul and discover all her secrets.

It’s his turn to duck his head now, and she’s surprised he’s suddenly bashful after being so flirtatious only a moment ago. When he speaks, his voice is soft, and she has to listen closely, following his lips. “Perhaps I’ve seen those same eyes in the mirror, looking back at me. And in my brother’s face, though he tried to be strong for both of us.” 

Emma’s eyes widen, and she wonders how she missed that detail in his file. Now it makes sense why Regina thought they would make a good match - they’re both orphans. She must have been too busy studying the surveillance photos to pick up on that detail. Looking down at where their hands are joined, she notices something she hasn’t seen before - a tatoo on his inner wrist. It’s in the shape of a heart, with the name “Milah” scrolled along the inside in cursive.

“Who’s Milah?” she asks, turning his hand so his wrist is facing up.

Killian swallows hard, looking off into the distance, before he focuses on her again, hesitating. 

“She was my first love. I thought we were going to be together forever. But I lost her. She died in a boating accident.” He looks pained, and it’s almost hard for her to look at him when he seems so raw and exposed. Emma sucks in a harsh breath as she takes in the depth of his grief etched across his face. She sees something dark pass over his features momentarily, like the shadow of a storm cloud looming over the horizon and it only concerns her further.

“I’m sorry, Killian. I had no idea,” she says truthfully, giving his hand a small squeeze before releasing it. A breeze blows his hair across his forehead, making him look boyish, and she suddenly has the urge to reach out and move the strands back into place. Her hand makes it into midair before she stops, unsure of herself. She hasn’t known him long, but she’s never seen him like this, and she makes a mental note to do some more research on this little tidbit, find out more about his lost love. Something tells her it’s a piece of the puzzle she needs to understand.

He breathes deeply, his shoulders rising and falling noticeably, before speaking again in that deep, breathy voice of his, his expression calmer now, his eyes back to being soft and clear as if the storm has passed.

“I never thought I’d be capable of letting her go, to believe that I could find someone else,” he says, a furrow on his brow and his eyes full of so much intense feeling that she wants to look away. “That is...until I met you.”

Emma’s breath catches in her throat, and she immediately flicks her eyes up to his, shocked by his admittance. She knew he liked her, but what he’s saying...it shows a depth of feeling she wasn’t prepared for and doesn’t know how to deal with. As if sensing her discomfort, he continues.

“Our kiss revealed this to me, Swan, and I just want you to know that I’m grateful to you. No matter what happens, I will always be grateful to you for that.” A slow, tentative smile curls his lips, and she’s relieved that the mood of the conversation seems to have lightened, as if he instinctively knows what she needs.

She nods, not sure what else to say following a confession like that, but wanting to contribute something, anything. _Give a little, get a little._

“I was in love like that once...a long time ago,” she says, the memory still haunting her like a ghost. She doesn’t want to tell him about Neal, can barely stand to talk about him with David and Mary Margaret, but she wants him to know that she understands what having a broken heart feels like.

“Something tells me he didn’t do right by you,” Killian responds, his eyes scanning over her face.

“What makes you say that?” she asks, a bit defensively.

“Otherwise you’d still be together. He’d be a fool to let you go,” he says, tugging on a strand of her hair, and she meets his gaze, smiling tentatively. 

“It’s complicated,” is all she can tell him, shrugging her shoulders, and he nods in response.

“Alright then, you can tell me some other time. What say you we find ourselves some waves to conquer?” he asks, lifting his board and pointing the nose towards the water. Again, he seems to have picked up on her frame of mind, and she’s grateful that he lets the subject drop without further explanation.

Emma turns around and looks behind her, then turns back to Killian. “Sure. You ready to teach me something new?” she asks with a raise of her brow.

Killian leans in close with a wicked grin on his face, before whispering in her ear. “Oh, Swan, you’ve no idea.” Before she can process this statement, he’s moving away again, heading for the break in the wall, and she grabs her stuff before following helplessly behind him, a tingling sensation spreading across her scalp.

This man is a walking contradiction, one moment cocky and flirtatious, the next broken and haunted. Hair dark as night, eyes as light as the dawn. And while she’s been busy trying to figure him out he already has her pegged completely. She’s starting to feel like she’s been outmatched here, and if she’s not careful the jig might be up before she can crack the case.

_It’s just a case, Emma, just a case._ She seems to keep forgetting that.

Perhaps what she needs is to give him a little distraction. She saw the longing in his face when he told her what the kiss revealed to him, the way his eyes kept darting towards her lips. Perhaps if she can make him drunk on kisses, he’ll overlook some of the less convincing details of her cover story. It’s worth a shot, and not altogether contrary to her interests.

She just needs to get a little closer to him, regain his trust, show him that she doesn’t intend for their kiss to be a one time thing. Right now he is acting a bit wary of her, like he’s willing to give her the space she needs, maybe even go back to being friends. How can she signal to him that that isn’t at all what she has in mind?

Lost in her thoughts, Emma doesn’t notice that they've stopped in the sand and Killian is staring out at the ocean.

“What are we looking at?” she asks him.

“Reminds me of that Aivazovsky painting, except it’s morning instead of sunset,” Killian muses, almost to himself.

She looks up and discovers that there’s a historical tall ship sailing past the beach, headed South towards San Diego. The white sails are billowing in the wind, and it is quite picturesque against the aqua waves capped in foam, puffy white clouds mirroring them on the horizon.

“Huh,” she says. “You know a lot about paintings?” She’s very curious to know how he’ll answer that question.

Killian suddenly scratches behind his ear, smiling uneasily. “Oh, not much really. Just what I learnt in Art History and whatnot.”

It would sound a lot more convincing if she hadn’t noticed that telltale nervous tick. Why should he be embarrassed of his knowledge of art and culture? She presses her lips together into a thin line.

Strengthening her resolve to get to the bottom of all this, she shifts just a bit closer to him, the top of her arm lightly brushing past his elbow.

“I’ll have to look it up,” she tells him, looking up at him and smiling. “What do you suppose that type of ship is doing around here?”

“That, lass, is the Lady Washington,” Killian supplies matter-of-factly.

Emma looks up at him, surprised. “How do you know that? I’m starting to think you’re clairvoyant or something.”

Killian chuckles, nudging her lightly with his arm. “It was in the paper this morning. The Lady Washington is going to be at port in San Diego for educational tours, that sort of thing. For the school children and the general public.” He smiles at her, looking smug with his apparent informed position.

“Oh, OK,” she says. “Wait, you still read the newspaper?” she asks incredulously, turning on him with feigned shock and horror.

He laughs again, and the sound is rich and melodious to Emma’s ears.

“I did mention I was a bit old fashioned, didn’t I?” He tilts his head at her and raises his eyebrow, grinning.

Emma smiles amusedly. “I thought that was only in reference to the ladies.”

“You’ve loads to learn about me, Swan. I promise to explain all of my archaic habits to you sometime, if you care to know about them. But for now-” he picks up his surfboard, “last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

He takes off in a sprint, and Emma is still standing there for a moment, unable to react quickly enough. _Damn, is he always one step ahead of me?_ she thinks as she picks up her board and runs for the ocean.

The water is cool and refreshing, her wetsuit saving her from the shock of temperature change she’d normally experience. As she puts her board down and jumps on top to begin paddling, a wave splashes salty water on her face, and she licks it off her lips. The surf looks active today, large waves rolling towards her, and she wonders if she’ll have to go underneath them to get past the break.

Killian waits for her, floating in the water, and when she catches up to him, he smiles. “Come on now, Swan, keep up,” he says teasingly, earning him an eyeroll.

She wants to say something snappy and clever in response, but she gets caught up staring at his face, the wet hair and the wicked grin he’s giving her making him just that extra little bit of attractive, effectively frying her brain circuits. _God, he’s pretty._

He raises an eyebrow at her knowingly before he glances back at the surf. “Alright, Swan. I’ve counted 5 waves so far, we’ll let one pass and then I want you to take the 7th one. Those are usually the biggest.” 

The roar of the waves crashing against the shore suddenly brings her back to the present, and when she sees the size of the wave coming at them her heart starts thundering in her chest.

“The waves are huge today!” she says, the fear evident in the squeak of her voice. “You really think I can handle it?” she asks skeptically.

“You’ve got this, Swan, I know you can do it,” he encourages her.

She glances back at the approaching wave and her stomach does a flip-flop. “Are you crazy!? That thing’s gonna crush me!” She grips her board tighter.

Killian looks deeply into her eyes. “Trust me, Swan. Things will be a lot smoother if you do.”

It’s a simple statement, and she could almost dismiss it as additional coaching except for the pleading way he looks at her, so that she knows there’s a double meaning to it.

Breaking his stare, she glances behind her. If she waits any longer, she’ll miss the break. She needs to start paddling now if she wants to catch this one.

_Oh, God._ Emma begins moving her arms at a frantic pace that makes her shoulders burn before she even gets 5 yards.

“Go for it!” she hears Killian yell over the noise of the surf, as she rises up and over a mountain of water. 

At this point, there’s nothing to do except implement everything he’s taught her, getting up on the board and giving it everything she’s got. She wobbles at first but manages to stick it, slicing into the wave as it carries her over the ocean floor, the roar of the surf loud in her ears. It’s a total rush, the feeling of having conquered nature’s beast making her blood hum. A wide grin splits her face as she gets carried along effortlessly, her bent knees holding her steady as she pushes into her board.

Eventually, the wave starts to get smaller and the ride more bumpy, and she loses her balance plunging head first into the water. After rolling in with the wave for a bit, she breaks the surface, just in time to see Killian coming in on the next wave, making his way towards her with a huge grin.

“Yeah!” she yells, thrusting her fist in the air. Killian hops off his board and makes his way towards her, jumping through the water.

“You were brilliant, Swan, absolutely brilliant!” he says, scooping her up in his arms and lifting her out of the water. She laughs, the joy bubbling up her throat in an uncontainable surge, and he swings her back and forth, holding her tightly as he laughs with her. The moment is free and easy, the sunlight warm on their faces.

He lowers her down slowly, the slide of their wetsuits against each other causing friction, and she stops laughing with a gasp, the rush of pleasure at the contact overcoming her as he settles her back in the thigh-high water and his hands come to rest at her waist.

The air sparks with tension and for a heartbeat she’s just standing still, clutching his biceps and staring into his beautiful blue eyes as everything around them fades away except the blood rushing in her ears. She looks at his lips, those perfect lips that she knows fit against hers so well.

Killian slowly lowers his head, running the tip of his nose down the bridge of hers, the water making it glide down easily until their foreheads are resting against each other’s. She can feel his breath hot on her cheek when he speaks. 

“Swan, may I kiss you?” he asks in a low whisper, and she shivers, closing her eyes. It’s stupid and old fashioned and romantic, but it’s effective because she couldn’t say no if her life depended on it. She nods her approval, her forehead rubbing against his.

Then his lips are upon hers and his hand is cupping the back of her head, and she’s glad he wraps the other arm around her because she’s not sure she’d be able to stand up straight without his support. 

Where the other kiss had been liquor-fueled desire, this one is soft and sweet, full of tender emotion that she tries to ignore as the fire of passion quickly builds and overtakes it. She’s grateful she’s sober this time so she can feel every blessed sensation - the tickle of his scruff on her lips, the press of his fingers into her scalp, the soft, wet rasp of his tongue as it slides against her own. _Oh, but the man could kiss._

Emma stands on her tippy toes, grabbing the tops of his shoulders exactly how she had imagined she would when she first met him. They breathe each other in, their chests pressing together as they wind their tongues around each other's, heads twisting and turning. She grasps at the silky, wet strands of his hair, anything to anchor herself to him.

They may have stayed that way for a very long time if it weren't for another wave coming in and crashing over them, breaking them apart as they laugh and stumble for footing. 

Emma wipes the hair out of her eyes and smiles at him, her heart doing a funny little pitter-patter. She takes in the half-drunk, lecherous grin he gives her back and considers the kiss a success. He’s _definitely_ distracted now.

Killian grabs her hand, pulling her close. “So, still think it was a mistake?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow and biting his lower lip.

She places her other hand on his chest, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I’m not sure yet, shall we try it again, for science?” she asks, smirking.

Killian obliges immediately, pulling her to him and crushing his open mouth against hers so they’re about right where they left off before the wave rudely interrupted them. Fire is building in her belly, and she moans quietly as he sucks her lower lip into his mouth.

Just then they hear hooting and hollering, and pulling back they see Jefferson and Whale walking across the beach, fists pumping as they cheer their approval. 

Emma feels her cheeks flame, and looking up she notices twin spots of color on Killian’s cheeks as well. He scratches behind his ear.

“Perhaps we should do a little more surfing...since the waves are so big today,” Killian suggests, looking thoroughly embarrassed. 

Emma has to laugh, because for all his bravado and cockiness, the man is downright bashful at times.

“OK,” she says, but not before reaching up to plant one more firm kiss on his lips, still eager for more.

She finds her leg rope and reins her board in, pulling it until she can grab hold of it again. “Bet I can beat you this time!” she challenges, pushing her board out into the water and jumping aboard at the same time. She tosses Killian a wide grin over her shoulder. It’s obvious he likes a challenge.

Throwing herself into her paddling, she moves away from him quickly, and she laughs as she hears him call, “I’m coming for you, Swan!” She bites her lip, determined to beat him.

~~~~

After several more good runs, they decide to call it a day. She would expect to feel tired, maybe even drained, but instead she’s completely exhilarated, the thrill of riding the waves making her feel giddy and high.

“That was ah-mazing!” she purrs with a satisfied groan, throwing her head back. 

She turns to find Killian looking at her with an expression that is positively feral, his eyebrow raised and his wet tongue running over his lower lip and settling in the corner. Suddenly an image flashes into her mind unbidden - Killian looking up at her from between her pale thighs with that exact same expression - and she wonders if it’s possible for him to be reading her mind right now, making her blush furiously and duck her head. She busies herself picking up her towel, wrapping it around her hair and squeezing the water out.

Killian only smiles smugly, bending to pick up his own towel and shaking the sand off before wiping his face with it. He rubs it over his hair and then wraps it around his neck, bending over and picking up his surfboard, then tucking it under his arm.

“Are you going to shower off?” he asks, nodding towards the restrooms.

“Yeah, sure,” she answers, suddenly feeling shy.

“Allow me,” Killian says with a smile, picking up her surfboard effortlessly and tucking it under his other arm.

“Oh, so chivalrous,” she teases, but secretly she thinks it’s pretty sweet. He grins and does that ridiculous thing with his eyebrows again, before he turns away and starts walking towards the restrooms. Emma picks up her bag and follows behind him.

It’s surreal on so many levels, and she wonders how people do this for years at a time - pretend to be someone else. Not that she’s being someone completely different, but he doesn’t know that she’s an FBI agent and she can’t tell him. She remembers his plea to her out on the water - _Trust me, Swan_ \- and she desperately wishes she could, wishes she could tell him everything and somehow the truth might set them free. But she still doesn’t know his part in the heists, and until she figures it out she needs to hold him at arm’s length. At least as far as her heart is concerned.

How did Killian get mixed up with these guys anyhow? She knows from the case files that Jefferson and Whale met while in college at USC, though they both eventually dropped out, and Robin was a childhood friend of Jefferson’s. Killian and Liam left the Navy after doing a tour in the Persian Gulf and disagreeing with the orders they’d been given. So what then? They all met up in his bar and had a good long discussion about their anti-government leanings? And how did stealing expensive pieces of art fit into their pirate manifesto? Thinking about the case reminds her of the anxiety she experienced Saturday morning, when she’d come looking for Killian and was unable to find him. Perhaps it’s time to get some answers from him.

She is thinking heavily on all of these things when she realizes they’ve made it to the bathrooms. When Killian turns to face her, she forces herself to smile, knowing she’d been frowning only a moment earlier. There’s one little thing she realizes she forgot to ask him.

“You know, I came by here Saturday morning to see you,” she says, careful of her tone, as he puts the surfboards down.

“Did you?” Killian asks, a bit surprised. “I’m afraid I wasn’t around. The boys wanted to surf Trestles on Saturday,” he tells her, and she searches his face for hints of a lie, but comes away inconclusive.

“Oh,” she answers, unable to hide the hint of disappointment in her voice. It’s hard to be this vulnerable with him, but she pushes through it, knowing it’s essential to the case. The way he’s so attuned to her feelings, however, makes it just a bit easier.

“If I’d known you’d be here, however, I would have been happy to make an appearance,” he says, nudging her shoulder, and he’s back to grinning again. “You should’ve sent me a message,” he adds.

Emma shrugs. “Next time, I guess,” she says, returning his smile. If he has something to hide, he certainly isn’t acting like it (or he’s an even better actor than she thought).

This time, they share the shower, since there are two sides to it anyway. They end up splashing each other and laughing, Killian using his large foot to divert the spray from the lower nozzle, hitting her right in the stomach. It’s a bit childish and silly, but she can’t remember the last time she’s had this much fun.

They towel off and then head towards the changing rooms. She pauses reluctantly when she gets to the entrance, looking over at him as he stops at the men’s entrance opposite and smiles at her, making her insides twist just a little. She fully expects him to finish before her, knowing it always takes her just a little bit longer to get ready. When she emerges from the bathroom, however, she finds him leaning against the wall next to their surfboards, fully clothed in a pair of faded jeans and a dark blue button up.

He smiles and stands up when she walks towards him, and again she feels that little something, and a happy smile splits her face unwittingly. She’s dressed in a sleeveless top and a pair of skinny jeans, her hair braided neatly, and she can feel the heat in his gaze as his eyes appraise her from head to foot.

He tucks his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “I’m headed your way this morning, Swan. Thought maybe we could drive out together.”

“Okay,” Emma responds, thinking that it’s cute he’s not ready to leave her side just yet. “Where are you headed?”

“I’ve a meeting with a craft brewer in downtown this morning. He’s giving me a special tasting of his seasonal brews,” he tells her, falling into step beside her. He puts her surfboard in her car for her, then goes back for his own.

“Rough life,” she teases. “Can I come?” She drops her bag in the car and leans back against the driver’s side door.

“Of course,” he answers immediately, securing his surfboard in the bed of his truck and then walking towards her. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of her, their thighs almost touching. “I’d be more than happy to take you with me, if you think your work could spare you.”

Emma hums in the back of her throat, her hands coming up instinctively to his shoulders as his settle on her hips. She’s smiling and feeling light and free, but something in the back of her mind is screaming _Danger!_ and she pushes it away, the thrill of the risk only heightening her enjoyment.

“Perhaps some other time,” she tells him, and then they’re kissing again, his lips warm and soft against hers. It’s short and sweet, and when he pulls back his eyes are shining, something tender taking root there.

“Hmm,” he hums, biting his lower lip. “Well, if the promise of free beer can’t tempt you, I wonder what will?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a devilish smirk as he lightly rocks his hips against hers. He runs his fingertips down her bare arms, and she shivers slightly. 

She giggles, a frivolous, carefree thing, and then she pushes his chest forcefully and puts some space in between them. _Leave him wanting, keep him distracted_ , she thinks.

“Bye, Killian,” she says demurely, turning to unlock her car door.

“Farewell, love,” he says as he walks towards his truck. “See you Wednesday?” he asks, stopping as he puts a hand on the hood and waits for her to answer.

“See you Wednesday!” she calls brightly, getting inside her Mustang. She pulls out, making her way through the parking lot, and notices that Killian is right behind her. She can see in her rearview mirror that he still has a smile on his face, and she smiles back at him in return.

Traffic is light, and she pulls out onto an empty street, Killian following behind her. There are several stoplights to get through, and each time they stop, she can’t help but look up at her mirror, searching for the reflection of his face. He doesn’t disappoint, giving her a wink or a small wave and making her laugh every time.

Once they get to the hills, however, she shifts into high gear and opens it up, issuing a silent challenge. Killian receives her message, pulling up along side her with a goofy grin, the nose of his truck just edging her out.

Emma downshifts, pressing down on the accelerator and sitting up in her seat just a bit as she pulls past him, then glancing over at him to see what he’ll do next.

He raises his eyebrows at her, but the goofy grin is gone, replaced by something a bit more serious, the look in his eyes a bit more dangerous.

She hears his engine rev, and then he’s pulling into the lead. Emma realizes that they are totally racing as she checks her speedometer and sees that she’s pushing 65 mph. She shifts into high again now that she’s gained momentum, and the speed is doing things to her body that she should probably spend some serious time evaluating. _Later._ Right now, beating Killian is the only thing on her mind, as they stagger back and forth, both trying to outdo the other. 

When they get through the canyon, a stoplight approaches, and she watches as the light changes from green to yellow. She should probably stop, she is a federal agent after all, and putting people in danger for a thrill ride is not an advisable activity. But she can’t relent, doesn’t want to give Killian the satisfaction of winning, and so she presses on, keeping her eye on the road in front of her to watch for oncoming traffic.

She just makes it through the intersection in time, the light changing to red as she streaks through at a breakneck speed. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Killian’s truck is no longer beside her, and she looks in her rearview mirror to see Killian stopped at the stoplight. He gives her a small salute, then shakes his head, his shoulders trembling with laughter. 

Emma wonders why he stopped when he seemed so intent on beating her, but then she also notices a police car coming towards her in the opposite lane, and she immediately presses on the brake, attempting to slow her vehicle. Interesting that he noticed the cop car and backed off.

Luckily, the cop seems to have better things to do than give her a speeding ticket, and she lets out the breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding. _Holy crap, that was a bad idea. But damn, it was fun._

Her smile lingers as she continues towards her office, all the while checking to make sure Killian turned onto the freeway and his truck isn’t following her anymore. The speed of her heart rate translates easily into sudden uneasiness as reality comes rushing back upon her.

She realizes that though this race is over, she’s still in a different sort of race altogether. A race to get to the truth before Killian discovers it all on his own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where we earn that M rating folks!

“Morning, partner,” Emma says brightly as she walks into the office Tuesday morning. 

“Hey, Emma,” David responds, smiling as she places a coffee in front of him. “Thanks.”

Emma sits down in her chair, leaning back as far as she can without tipping it over. “So, uh,” she starts, clearing her throat. “I was able to get some more info out of Jones yesterday. He and his brother are orphans. Did you know that?” she asks with a tilt of her head, feeling a bit uncomfortable now talking to David about Killian, since she knows how he feels about him.

David looks somewhat surprised. “No, I don’t remember that in his file. But it makes sense. He’s found a sort of second family with this gang, it fits the profile.”

Emma nods, picking at the cardboard wrapper around her coffee cup. “There was something else, about a woman he was dating. She died, I guess? Milah?”

This time David nods, before leaning down and opening his file cabinet. He pulls out a file and opens it up, his eyes scanning over the material.

“Right, Milah. He was having an affair with her. She was married to someone else,” David says with disdain, glancing at Emma for her reaction as he slides the papers towards her over the desk. Emma can’t help the hard swallow she takes at his words, but tries to hide her reaction as best she can. _An affair, hmph. He left that little detail out._

“She died in a boating accident,” David continues, “they never found the body.”

“Huh,” Emma responds. “Must make it harder to get past, when you never get a proper burial. Closure and all that.” She glances down at the paperwork, noting the information about Milah Gold, and sees she died around four years ago. Her heart clenches involuntarily in her chest as she remembers Killian’s face when he talked about her, how heartbroken he was.

“Did he know about the affair? The, uh, husband?” she asks David, suddenly curious. The way Killian talked about her, it certainly didn’t seem like there was anyone else involved.

“Not really sure,” he answers, shaking his head. “That wasn’t in the paperwork. But they were quite the affluent couple. Her husband owns an extensive amount of property and buys and sells antiques.”

“So the bored housewife of a rich husband finds herself a boytoy to play with. Wouldn’t be the first time,” she muses, a little more harshly than is necessary just to avoid giving David more reasons to question her about her feelings for Killian. _A very handsome, very charismatic boytoy_ , Emma thinks to herself.

“He was still having an affair with a married woman, Emma, no matter how you choose to look at it.” David shakes his head. “I told you that Jones character is one shady guy. I mean, what kind of person does that?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders, momentarily unphased. David can think what he wants, but she knows the relationship meant a great deal to Killian, that it was more than just a fling. 

_And here she is again, giving him the benefit of the doubt._

“Any news about the guard who got shot?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, he’s gonna pull through I guess. So that’s good news. But he’s got nothing to offer us in terms of identifying the culprits.”

Emma purses her lips. “So close, but no cigar.”

“Yep. It’s all on you, now,” David says, giving her his best fatherly look of expectation.

Emma rolls her eyes at him, groaning. “Thanks for reminding me. No pressure, right?”

“No pressure, Emma. You got this. He’s like putty in your hands, right?” He rubs his palms together, as if to demonstrate.

She smiles at that, the memory of his dazed expression after their kiss still firmly planted in her mind. “Oh yeah, I’ve got him plenty distracted, that’s for sure! Pretty soon he’ll be spilling all his secrets.”

David raises his eyebrows. “Just make sure he keeps his hands to himself, alright?” The way he says it makes her wonder how someone so close to her own age can treat her in such a fatherly manner.

“Yes, Daaaad,” she teases, smiling.

David only scowls deeper, and Emma shakes her head, laughing softly.

~~~~

Wednesday morning, Emma reaches the beach with nervous anticipation. She got a text message from Killian the night before asking if it would be alright for some of the boys to join them for surfing. _Of course!_ she had responded cheerfully, with a little happy face emoji. It’s exactly what she’s been waiting for, but now that it is really going to happen, she finds she dreads the meeting.

She’s grown really comfortable with Killian, friendly to say the least, over all the hours spent together out on the surf while they wait for a break to come in chatting and getting to know each other better. Their conversations are always fun and natural, they just seem to “get” each other in a way that doesn’t happen often with people she meets. Maybe it’s the orphan thing, or maybe it’s something else...but she knows that chemistry this good doesn’t come along every day. Now she’s going to meet his friends and she’s nervous, because it feels a bit like meeting her significant others’ friends and she wants their approval, with the added layer of needing to investigate them for criminal activity. Things were good when she left Killian on Monday, and a part of her just wants to enjoy that happy place they’d managed to find and not complicate things.

Her nervousness is only amplified when she walks out on the sand and sees the group, but can’t find Killian anywhere. _Where is he?_ Scanning the water, she spots him many yards out, floating atop the waves. _Wait, is that a girl he’s talking to?_

Emma eyes her carefully. She’s blonde, her hair tucked up in a bun, but obviously long and thick. Killian says something and the girl laughs enthusiastically, and suddenly the nervousness turns to heat, a flash of jealousy building in her gut like wildfire.

Stopping in her tracks, she watches as they catch the next wave, attempting to get her heart rate under control before she’s tempted to say something she shouldn’t. This is not how this was supposed to go; she can’t risk being off balance when she faces Whale, Jefferson, and Locksley. But the way she feels is uncontrollable, and she wills herself to calm down, taking deep breaths through her nose and expanding into her diaphragm.

She’s still shaking slightly as she makes her way over to the group, but she doesn’t have much choice now that Killian and the other woman are coming out of the water, and he’s obviously spotted her.

“Emma!” Whale calls, lifting his hand in greeting. “What’s up, dudette?” He lifts his chin, grinning at her from where he’s standing by the group.

She manages a weak smile in return. “Hey guys, how’s it going?”

“I don’t believe we’ve had a proper introduction,” Locksley says, getting up from where he was sitting on a blanket. “I’m Robin, and this is my wife, Marian.” He gestures towards a slim, dark haired woman wearing a warm smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says, shaking his hand and waving at Marian, who stays seated. She nods at Jefferson, who offers her a strange smile. That guy gives her the creeps.

Just then, Killian and the blonde reach them, still dripping water from the surf. Close up, she sees that the blonde has wide green eyes and pouty, lush lips. She’s pretty. _Very pretty._

“I see you’ve all met Emma?” Killian asks, grabbing his towel and wiping his face.

“Um, Killian,” the blonde says, striking him on the arm in a familiar manner. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“Yeah, Killian,” Emma says with more heat than she intends. “Just who’s your, um, _friend_?” 

Killian looks her over, and she has the distinct discomfort of feeling like he’s reading her again, a slow smile curving his lips. 

“Where’s my manners? This sprightly lass is my _friend_ Tink. As in Tinkerbell,” he says with a wink, looking between the two women.

“Nice to meet you,” Emma says, letting out a small sigh, some of the tension relieved as she wonders what kind of hippie parents Tinkerbell must have to have given her a name like that. 

Tink just smiles knowingly, looking between her and Killian. “You too, Emma.”

Killian’s still smiling, a hint of laughter twinkling in his eyes, when he comes over to her, placing his hand on her waist and kissing her. He pulls back quickly, but it’s still enough to make her feel dumbstruck, small tremors making their way all the down to her toes.

She turns her head to see everyone watching them and is completely mortified, a blush creeping fiercely up her neck. Killian just winks at her again, smiling broadly, and she can’t help the dopey grin that spreads across her face, no acting required.

“So, Emma,” Whale begins. “We heard you two met here on the beach. Jones said you were trying to steal his towel.”

Emma scoffs at that, giving Killian a look. “No, not exactly. I mean, I was just borrowing his towel for a minute, that’s all. I haven’t stolen anything since I was a juvenile, scout’s honor,” she says, holding up three fingers.

Whale and Jefferson exchange a side glance and Locksley just grins, looking between them both. Killian focuses all of his attention on her, giving her an amused look and curling his hand around her waist to draw her close.

“No one would judge you around here,” Whale remarks, and Emma files it all away under _suspicious behavior_.

“Huh,” Jefferson says, “strange that of all the towels on the beach that morning, you chose to sit on Jones’, isn’t it? I mean, what are the chances?” Ok, Emma _really_ doesn’t like this guy. And just where exactly was he headed with this, anyway?

“Guess I just lucked out,” she says, smiling and looking up at Killian like an adoring new girlfriend, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“No, but I mean, did you scope him out first, figure out which towel might be his?” Jefferson gets up now, walking towards them, and she can feel Killian’s hand tense around her hip. “Or are you gonna tell me it was all just a random occurrence?” His eyes are dark and almost menacing as he slowly walks up to them, the expression on his face openly challenging.

“Just what are you trying to prove, Jefferson?” Killian asks, a furrow on his brow, and just like that, the air is thick with tension. She can hear the hard edge in Killian’s voice, and it makes her curious just how much she really knows about him. She spreads her palm against his side and can feel his muscles rigid and contracted, as if he’s ready to pounce.

“Nothin’,” Jefferson responds, the heat suddenly dropping from his gaze as he scratches behind his neck. “Just curious, is all.” Emma can tell there’s something more to it, but she hopes it’s not suspicion about her cover story. She doesn’t see any reason why it should raise any red flags, but she also can’t figure out just what Jefferson might be getting at.

Just when she thinks the moment is over and she can relax again, he continues, turning and looking back at them. 

“Were you looking for a surf instructor, or you just ‘happened’ to luck out on that front, too? Cuz, I mean, Jones is good and all, but there are certainly people more qualified to teach you, like certified instructors and all that.” There is that wild look in his eyes again, coupled with a catlike grin, and she has no idea if there’s any point to his questioning whatsoever or if he’s just adept at being a royal pain in the ass.

“That’s enough, Jefferson!” Killian retorts, his jaw clenching as he shifts forward, and she suddenly wonders what the beef is between these two.

“Boys! Boys! Take it easy, now,” Whale cuts in, coming to stand in between them, and she’s never been more grateful for his laid-back persona than she is right now. “We’re all friends here, remember? It’s a beautiful day, how about some surfing?” He glances right and left between Killian and Jefferson, who are still eying each other warily.

Emma smiles tightly at Whale, knowing she owes him her gratitude for more reason than one. She suddenly realizes she’s placed her other hand on Killian’s chest, instinctively holding him back, and can feel his heart pounding beneath her palm.

“Aye,” Killian says, and then she can feel his body relax, though there’s still a bit of strain as he lowers back on his heels. He looks down at her, giving her a reassuring smile, and she knows she’s going to need to ask him what the hell that was all about.

“I don’t know about you boys, but I think I’m going to head down by the pier,” Tink offers perkily, looking as though she wants to change the subject. “You coming, Marian?”

“Sure!” she says, standing up and tying her hair back in a low ponytail. “Let me grab my board.”

“I’m in,” Jefferson says, turning around to grab his board where it rests in the sand.

She looks questioningly up at Killian, who moves his hand up around her shoulders. 

“I think we’ll stay here, boys. Emma’s not quite ready for the pier yet.”

“Oh yeah? I thought you were ready to go pro, little lady,” Whale remarks, smiling at Emma. “What about your friend - Ruby. How come she’s not out here?”

Emma shakes her head. “Ruby’s not much of an outdoorsy type. She prefers sunbathing to actual, well, bathing,” she offers with a gesture towards the water.

Whale chuckles at that. “I figured as much. You shouldn’t really mix fire with water anyway,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows, and Emma smirks at that.

“Alright, you two, don’t have too much fun without us,” Robin says, grabbing his board and following behind Marian. “Catch you later!”

As soon as they begin walking away, Emma lets out a small huff of relief.

Killian turns to face her. “Sorry about that, love. You know how there’s always that one guy in a group who’s a bit of an arse? That would be Jefferson.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “I just wasn’t really sure what he was getting at.”

“Ah, well. Probably just jealous you sat on my towel instead of his,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows and a flash of teeth.

Emma rolls her eyes, but smiles back at him.

“Speaking of jealousy…” Killian draws out, wrapping both arms around her and turning her to face him. “You needn’t worry about Tink and I, we’re just mates. She’s like one of the blokes to me.”

The previous irritation flares up again, and Emma has a hard time masking it. “Oh? And you two weren’t…?”

Killian tilts his head thoughtfully. “We had a little dalliance in the past, yes. But it was a long time ago, and nothing ever came of it.”

_Truth_ , Emma notes, the expression in his eyes open and honest. She sighs heavily. “Let’s just get out on the water, alright? I think a few of those waves have my name on them.” She’s looking forward to shredding them.

Killian grins, appearing a bit too smug for her taste. “Sounds like a plan.”

Later, after their arms are aching from paddling and the pull of the waves has lost it’s seduction, they dry themselves off, laughing and talking about the airheaded surfer they saw eating it over and over before finally giving up.

Killian smiles at her while rubbing at his hair with his towel, a sight she never tires of. “I was wondering if you might like to join me for breakfast tomorrow morning, lass. There’s this little place close by - Granny’s. I’m kind of a regular there and the food is splendid.”

Emma looks up at him, surprised. “Splendid, hmm? Well, when you put it that way.”

“Do you have time before you have to be at work?” he asks, considering.

Emma thinks it over momentarily, weighing the pros and cons. “I think I could be a bit late tomorrow,” she says, shrugging. “I put in some overtime the last few nights, I think my boss will understand.” 

“Brilliant!” he says with a smile, and she can’t help but smile back. _Idiot_.

~~~~

She meets him at the diner Thursday morning at 8. Granny’s turns out to be small and quaint with red vinyl seats in the booths and a jukebox in the back. The proprietor, Granny herself, stands behind the counter, smiling and waving when she sees Killian come in. _Oh, he’s a regular alright_.

She comes over to their booth to take their order, nudging Killian on the arm and giving him an inquiring look. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your pretty new friend? You haven’t brought a girl here in forever, she must really be someone special!” She beams at Emma, inspecting her over the rim of her eyeglasses.

Killian looks sheepish, scratching behind his ear as twin spots of color rise to his cheeks. “And I won’t do it again if you scare this one off!”

Emma laughs softly, enjoying watching him squirm. “I’m Emma,” she says, offering the elder woman her hand. Outwardly, she’s calm and collected, but inwardly she feels a bit like she’s drowning, not used to meeting all sorts of people as if she’s someone important. Killian looks so proud as she shakes Granny’s hand, and she has a sudden dire thought: what if he’s completely innocent in all this? He’s going to hate her when he finds out that she’s been lying to him and using him. A knot forms in her belly as she swallows down the lump in her throat.

“Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Granny. It’s nice to see this one smiling again, and I suppose I have you to thank for that?” She pinches Killian’s cheek where it dimples and Emma about dies at the look on his face.

Emma runs her hand through her hair. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Indeed, it’s true, Granny. She’s like the sun returning after a storm,” he says earnestly, his eyes soft as he gazes intently at her and she wants to fly out of her seat, warmth rising to her cheeks.

Granny just smiles appreciatively at both of them, the affection obvious in her demeanor. “In that case, breakfast is on the house! What’ll you have, dear?”

“Well, I was thinking about the hot chocolate…”

“Let me guess, with pancakes? My pancakes are the best in the entire county, rest assured,” she asserts proudly.

“Sounds great,” Emma replies, handing her the menu. She gets the feeling that Granny’s not one to be argued with.

“I’ll have the same. With coffee, though,” Killian says.

“Coming right up!” The old lady turns and walks away, and Emma can’t hide the grin that spreads across her face.

“She’s pretty fond of you,” she can’t help but tease.

“Aye,” Killian responds, shrugging. “I have a way with women.” He winks at her, grinning cheekily. The gray henley he’s wearing reveals a small patch of chest hair where’s he’s left it unbuttoned, and his light eyes are mesmerizing against the darkness of his hair.

He captures her hand over the table, rubbing a soothing pattern on the back of her hand with his thumb and Emma feels both elated and panicked at the same time. God, he _really_ needs to stop looking at her like that. She focuses on a picture on the wall - an old surfing print - and tries to rein in her thoughts, readying a line of questioning that may lead to more intel on the case.

She’s broken from her reverie, however, when Killian’s warm lips graze her knuckles as he looks up at her from beneath his long, thick lashes. “So, darling, you know Granny wasn’t wrong.”

“About what?” she asks, unable to keep her eyes off those perfect lips.

Kilian grins knowingly. “About you being someone special,” he says, scratching behind his ear again bashfully. “And it’s true, I haven’t brought a girl in here in a long time. I like to reserve this place for a select few.” He keeps a firm grip on her hand, not letting her slip away as he gazes deeply into her eyes.

_Oh, God_. This is not the conversation she was prepared to have with him. Like, _ever_. She hasn’t been “someone special” to anyone in a very long time, and she’s not sure she likes where things are headed, especially considering none of it is real.

Emma gives him a wary look. “Look, Killian, don’t you think this is moving a bit fast? I mean we haven’t even been on a date yet...”

“What do you call this?" he asks, defensively.

“I thought you just wanted to have breakfast, you know, like friends do or whatever.”

His face falls immediately, and he drops his hold on her hand, nodding. “I see,” he says with obvious disappointment, smiling tightly. But then Emma remembers what Regina had told her, how she’d encouraged her to become his girlfriend, and she knows she has to push through this, painful as it is.

She grabs his hand again, lowering her head until she can catch his eyes. “Hey, that’s not what I meant. I like you, Killian, a lot. It’s just...I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time, and I’m not really sure I’m the relationship type. I can’t seem to escape the shadow of the past, it seems to hold me back no matter how much I want to move forward.” She sighs heavily, knowing further explanation will be needed, as she looks at him seriously. 

“Was it...this man? That you loved?” he asks quizzically, his eyes shifting back and forth across her face.

“Yes - Neal. I was just a girl, barely seventeen. I’d grown up alone and he was the first person in my life to become like family to me. We were inseparable. But in the end he betrayed me, and I almost got sent to prison for him.” She pauses, tucking her hair behind one ear. Killian sits forward in his seat, giving her his full attention as he waits for her to continue. 

“There were these watches he had stolen and he actually told me to go get them from a storage locker, knowing the police would be watching. Luckily, I spotted the cops before I went through with it and I left, ran away. But that was it for me, I was done. I had trusted him completely and he threw me to the wolves. I couldn’t even get ahold of him after that. He’d ditched his cellphone and cut out,” the last words leaving a bitter tang in her mouth as a single tear slides down her cheek.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian sighs, leaning forward and drying her tear with his thumb, his hand caressing her cheek. He gives her a moment to collect herself. “You may not believe me, but I would never do that to you,” he says, shaking his head. “You can trust me, lass. I promise.”

Emma smiles wanly at that, wondering how it could possibly be true, how she can ever possibly trust another man, let alone a suspect in a case. But she knows he’s being sincere, so she nods at him, continuing. “Whenever I even think about starting a new relationship, Neal’s face enters my mind, ” she says, shrugging her shoulders and staring down at the table. “It’s just impossible to forget.”

“Aye, I’m afraid the wanker didn’t leave you with a very happy association,” he says, sighing. “Well, that’s alright, despite being old fashioned, I’m not averse to something a bit less conventional. I could be your paramour, perhaps? Beau? _Secret lover_?” He says in a low voice, raising one eyebrow and biting his lower lip, and it’s that perfect mix of hot and ridiculous again, making her laugh despite herself.

She brushes the wetness from her eyes, squeezing his hand lightly. “Perhaps,” she says, biting her lip, and the answering heat in his eyes is enough to ignite a burning warmth between her thighs, surprising her.

Just then, Granny returns with the food, placing a steaming mug of hot cocoa in front of her as well as a pile of pancakes that have a giant heart outlined in the middle. Killian’s pancakes are the same. Emma covers her mouth with her hand as he smirks at her; it’s all just too much.

“I hope you like a bit of cinnamon on your whipped cream,” Granny says with a wink. 

“Love it,” Emma answers, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Just had a feeling,” Granny says with a shrug. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she says before disappearing again, and Emma could definitely get used to this, making her sigh.

“Everything alright?” Killian asks, picking up on her resignation.

_No, it’s not alright, you idiot. I’m an FBI agent, and if it turns out you’re a part of these art heists I might just have to shoot you myself for trading in a life this good for a life behind bars._

“Perfect,” she answers instead, and they both dig into their pancakes, which are heavenly, as promised. Unfortunately for Emma, she’ll have to file this under places she’ll never be able to show her face again after the truth is revealed. Granny seems nice, but she’s pretty sure she might have some weapons in the back she could use on her if she hurts Killian.

When they’re done eating, she glances at her watch, noting that it’s past 9 o’clock. “Shoot, I really ought to get going.”

“I probably ought to get going myself,” Killian says with a sad smile. “Though it grieves me greatly to part from your company.”

Emma’s heart skips a beat. Who even _is_ this man?

“Let me say goodbye to Granny,” he says, getting up from the table. 

Emma gathers her things and watches as he exchanges a few words with Granny that she can’t hear over the din of the diner patrons, but that cause the proprietor to smile widely. When the old woman turns and waves at her, she waves back, calling, “Thanks!”

“Anytime dear! Hope you’ll come back soon!” she calls, nevermind that everyone in the place can hear her. Emma ducks her head and makes her way for the door.

As soon as they’re outside alone, she feels the tremors of anxiety coming on, and she tucks her hands nervously into her back pockets. All this talk about relationships, spilling the beans about Neal. It just makes her want to run away and hide. She was supposed to be interrogating _him_ , and somehow it got all turned around. Not only that, but he was kind to her, and the way he keeps introducing her to people makes it apparent that she really _is_ special to him. As much as she _needs_ to get some space to preserve her own sanity, she _wants_ to pull him close and kiss him senseless, the two desires warring heavily in her mind.

“So, do you want to come by the bar tonight?” Killian asks, toying with a strand of her hair.

“Actually, I have a class tonight. Kickboxing.” Even if she didn’t, tonight is _way_ too soon to see each other again. She glances nervously around the parking lot, hoping he doesn’t catch on.

“And tomorrow?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

She shakes her head. “I’m supposed to go over to Ruby’s. Movie night.”

“Ah, I see,” he says, hanging his head. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Yep, I’ll be there.”

He starts to move away, before he stops, facing her. “Emma, I know what avoiding looks like, and this-” he motions between the two of them, “this is you avoiding me.”

Emma bites her lip, swaying into his space as she considers what he’s saying. She holds his eye contact as she raises up on her tippy toes and kisses him, soft and tender, a gift and a promise. “Be patient,” she breathes out as she pulls away, licking her lips and gazing into his eyes, willing him to understand.

He nods, smiling. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Emma turns and walks away, but stops to glance behind her. Killian is still standing by the entrance of the diner, looking downcast but hopeful. _If only..._ she thinks. The line between reality and her undercover identity has never felt so blurred.

Sighing wistfully, she retrieves her car keys and unlocks her door. It’s going to be really hard to say goodbye, an inevitable fact that she had better get used to before it completely tears her apart.

~~~~

Friday’s surfing lesson proves uneventful. Killian can sense that she needs some space after confessing what happened between her and Neal, and somehow he seems to understand how much damage was done. As much as Emma wishes to be a professional and not let it affect her operation, her emotional health demands certain liberties. Still, she gives him a small kiss goodbye, and he seems satisfied with that, smiling softly at her before he walks away.

She really does have plans to meet up with Ruby for movie night, but that afternoon she gets a text letting her down gently in favor of male company. 

_Ruby Lucas: Would you hate me for skipping movie night tonight? I may have a hot date!_  
Emma Swan: No, it’s fine. Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.  
Ruby Lucas: Well, that doesn’t leave me with many options. ;) How’s Hotty McJones?  
Emma Swan: Still hot.   
Ruby Lucas: Get on that Emma, what are you waiting for? And hook me up with the brother when you get a chance. ;) 

Emma rolls her eyes. If only it were so simple. Actually, she thinks, tapping her phone against her lips, if he wasn’t a suspect she probably would have slept with him by now. There’s no doubt about the attraction between them, and she’s fairly certain the sex would be hot. Scorching, maybe.

Unfortunately for her, she’s stuck in a cruel reality where “sex for fun” is off limits, and the more she gets to know Killian, the less she wants to go there because she has a feeling they’re way beyond the “no-strings attached” phase. The way he looks at her now, there would definitely be strings. Many strings, playing a sad, sad symphony for star-crossed lovers.

She holds her phone to her chest for a moment, wondering what it would be like between them. Would he take her fast and hard against the wall, like their first kiss? Furious and demanding, breathless with need? No, she has a feeling Killian would want to take his time with her, worship every part of her body the same way that he appreciates her when he looks her up and down, searing every last inch of her skin with his hot gaze. She’s the one who would be impatient, desperate to get her mouth on those hipbones she got to preview. Desperate to keep away from his prying eyes, the ones that seem to see inside her heart and reveal her soul. She knows he would take care of her though, satisfy her every whim and desire like the way he kisses her - passionately, deeply, thoroughly. Emma licks her lips slowly, her eyes unfocused.

“Daydreaming about the scoundrel again?” David cuts into her very personal, very private thoughts.

“Oh, uh, sorry, I didn’t notice you had come in,” she says, blanching and sitting up straight in her chair. “I was just working out some details in my head, that’s all.”

“Right,” David says, unconvinced. “You’re not seeing him tonight, are you?”

“No, of course not. Why would you say that?” she asks. _Although, now that she’s not having movie night..._

“No reason.” David drops his stare, opening up a file. 

Emma breathes out a sigh and gets back to her computer. She isn’t going to see Killian tonight, is she? No, that would be a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea.

~~~~

Later that night, she’s lounging on her couch watching Tangled because it’s one of her favorites and Ruby’s not here to make fun of her, and all she can think about is Killian. Every time Flynn Rider opens his mouth and talks, she thinks, “Hey, he looks an awful lot like…” And then there’s those eyebrow raises, and the way he secretly adores Rapunzel’s long blonde hair.

_Shit._ She’s not sure what the heck this feeling is called, but it feels an awful lot like she misses him, visions of Killian as a cartoon floating across her screen.

So, it seems only fitting that he chooses that very moment to call her, the buzzing of her phone catching her completely off guard. Startled, she jumps and the phone flies from her hand, sliding under the coffee table and out of sight.

How did he know? _Damn clairvoyant bastard._

She tries to find the phone, but it’s stuck all the way under the table, and by the time she manages to get to it, it’s stopped ringing. She stares at the screen, waiting to see if he’ll leave her a message. When the little “New voicemail” message pops up, she smiles.

Eagerly, she hits the button and waits for the message to play.

“Swan, it’s me, Killian. I know you’re busy avoiding me and all, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Are you sure you can’t persuade Ruby to come over to the bar for a bit? I promise no more talk about relationships or any of that nonsense. I just...want to spend time with you. No pressure. I’ll be here. G’bye.” 

Emma’s heart stutters in her chest. He’s too good to be true. Like, _how_? How does he always find the most perfect, heart-tugging thing to say at the exact right moment?

She gets up before she can change her mind, rushing towards her room to find some appropriate clothing. It couldn’t hurt to go see him tonight. _It’s for the case, yeah, she can go with that._ Regina would totally approve. (David wouldn’t, but that’s another story.) 

She tugs on a pair of well-fitted jeans, scanning her closet for a top that’s cute but not too revealing, finally settling for a floaty ivory camisole. And if she spends a couple minutes touching up her hair and makeup, well, that’s normal, isn’t it?

Before she knows it, she’s out the door, a feeling of breathless anticipation radiating around her. She takes her car because she’s _not_ planning on drinking too much like last time. She’s got to keep her wits about her.

When she gets to the bar, she walks in and finds the place crowded as she scans the room for Killian. Just then, he comes walking out of the back hallway, headed straight for her. He’s wearing jeans and a blue plaid button up, and his hair is actually combed for once, like he put a little extra effort into it. Just like that, the space between them clears and he stops in his tracks, looking at her in awe and complete and utter happiness, his face splitting into a grin. She may be smiling back at him, she can’t say for sure, but her cheeks are burning.

They meet somewhere in the middle, and he puts one hand on her waist as he kisses her cheek softly, his whiskers tickling her skin. Pulling back, he looks her over appreciatively, like he didn’t just see her this morning.

“Hey beautiful,” he says, his voice a little breathless. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Where’s your friend, Ruby?” He looks around for the brunette.

Emma bites her lip. “She’s out on a date, actually. She cancelled on me earlier.”

“So I have you all to myself, then? Lucky, lucky me.” The wicked grin returns, his eyes dark and teasing as he rubs her lower back, his fingertips sending shivers up her spine as they move against the thin material of her shirt.

She raises her eyebrows at him, but smiles coyly, toying with his collar. “Yeah, I’m all yours for the night,” she purrs, watching as his pupils dilate and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. _Two can play at this game._

“Hmm,” he hums in the back of his throat. “What can I get you to drink? Another rum concoction?” he asks in a low voice, his tongue gliding between his teeth provocatively.

She thinks of ginger and heat and the way his tongue tasted the first time he kissed her. “I think I’ll stick with beer tonight. You have any Stella?” she asks, pretending not to be staring at his mouth.

“Sure, I’ll be right back. You play pool, Swan? The bar’s covered tonight, I can sneak away for a bit, I think.”

“I’ll _play_ ,” she says, watching as he gets that look in his eyes again. She thinks she likes catching him off guard. He walks backward for a few steps, as if he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight, before turning and going over to the bar.

Emma walks towards the back, where the pool tables are, and before she knows it she feels Killian against her back, wrapping his arm around her and handing her a bottle of beer. He doesn’t keep the contact for long, moving around her to collect balls and put them out on the table, but the brush of his warm, firm body against hers is enough to make her feel slightly off-balance and she curses under her breath.

Killian is still setting up the table while Emma sips her beer when Liam appears out of nowhere, smiling broadly at her. “Emma!” he exclaims. He wraps her up in a big hug and it’s so unexpected Emma doesn’t react for a moment, before wrapping her arms around him awkwardly and surrendering to his warm embrace.

He pulls back and Emma glances over at Killian who looks both happy and mildly perturbed. _Can the man actually be jealous of his own brother?_ Emma keeps her hands loosely at Liam’s waist for a bit longer than is necessary, just to test the theory.

“Good to see you again, lass. You’re like a breath of fresh air,” Liam says.

“Am I? Thanks for the warm welcome. I think I like it here,” she tells him, laughing self-consciously.

“Good, because you’ve turned things around for that wise-arse down there.” He nods towards Killian. “He’s had a rough time of it, things got pretty dark there for awhile, but I’ve never seen him happier.” Liam beams at her, his approval obvious.

“Glad to hear it,” she answers brightly as her heart races, but she smiles assuredly at Liam, who squeezes her arm and politely excuses himself. She’s not really sure what to say, her gut twisting painfully. _Sorry, but I am most definitely bad news as far as your brother is concerned, and while I’m at it shall I add you to the list of people who are going to hate me later?_

Sighing, she turns back to Killian, who’s looking at her with a curious expression as he carries two pool sticks towards her. She has no choice but to let it go, for now.

“That git wasn’t bothering you, was he?” He glares in his brother’s direction.

Emma smiles, shaking her head. “No, he was being perfectly nice. I like him,” she says, smirking a bit gleefully as Killian frowns. “Who’s going to break?”

Killian hands her a cue and circles the table, catlike and calculating. “Mind if I have a go?” he asks, and she wonders if he’s going to take out all of his jealous aggression on the balls.

“Be my guest.” Emma watches as the muscles in his forearms flex and shift as he lines up the shot. Leaning over, she’s afforded a view of his chest hair trailing down his body and her fingers suddenly itch to get lost in it. Killian looks up at her, smirking now like he knows exactly what she’s thinking before pulling the cue stick back and driving it slowly through the loop of his finger, his tongue going to the corner of his mouth as he tests out the shot.

Her breath catches, his movements more than suggestive, as a flush of heat spreads across her chest. His eyes never leave hers as he breaks, the balls making a loud racket as they scatter across the table. 

“What’ll it be, Swan? Stripes or solids?”

“Stripes,” she says determinedly.

Emma circles the table, looking for a good shot. There isn’t a lot of room, forcing her to slide past Killian, her bum brushing against him in all the right places. She catches his eye when she bends down to take her shot, smirking at him. His answering grin is wolfish as his eyes roam over her figure, hooded and dark. Her blood is pumping quickly, rushing in her ears, and she misses her shot, cursing. He still has her off balance, and she’s not sure how to make it stop.

Killian chuckles under his breath, but says nothing, coming around the table as he eyes the ball he wants. It’s his turn now to raise the stakes a little, and he does so by putting his hand on her hip as he slides his body across her ass, his nose nuzzling the back of her hair. She can feel his hot breath on her face as he murmurs, “My turn,” and she closes her eyes as a gentle tremor works it’s way down her body. This is turning into a very dangerous game, indeed.

He lines up his shot and takes it, scoring, and she scowls, not liking her chances. She attempts to move past him one more time, this time facing him, but he stops her, his hand covering hers as it holds her cue stick. He presses her gently back against the pool table, his leg nudging in between hers, and she holds her breath, looking away. With his free hand, he gently lifts her face until she’s forced to meet his penetrating blue gaze, and once locked she’s helpless to look away.

“I missed you, Emma,” he murmurs, his nose brushing hers.

Emma shudders and closes her eyes momentarily, her breath shaky. She looks past him over his shoulder, anything to escape those eyes full of so many things she’s not capable of dealing with, and who should she see staring straight at them? Tink, the girl from the beach, looking mighty invested if she does say so herself as she stares at them curiously.

She might tell herself it’s this interference that forces her hand - a flash of possessiveness overcoming her - but whatever the reason, she turns back to Killian, grabbing the back of his neck with her free hand and kissing him with all her might. She can tell he’s surprised at first, but then he’s releasing his grip on her hand, and they both drop the cue stick simultaneously, caught up in a wave of passion that’s impossible for them to ignore.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulls her tight to him, their bodies fusing together as he presses her further back against the table. As his head tilts and he takes the kiss deeper, she releases her hold on his shirt to bury her fingers in his hair, stroking and clutching at the back of his head. He does the same, grabbing a handful of her hair before letting it slowly slide out of his fingers. Emma moans softly as his tongue strokes against hers, this time minty and sweet as if he’d slipped himself a breath mint when she wasn’t looking.

Once the floodgates are open, everything she feels and desires comes rushing to the surface as her body responds to his, heat building like a bonfire. She runs her hands up his back as she presses her body closer to his until there’s no room left, every inch of his torso melting into hers. As she sucks the tip of his tongue into her mouth, she can feel him gasp, his arousal twitching hot and heavy against her belly. _God, she wants him_. She knows she can’t and she shouldn’t, but she _wants_ just the same, and for once in her life she’s determined to take a chance, make the risky move that may just leave her broken and exposed but that she’d always regret if she didn’t make.

He pulls back, and she chases his lips, their hot breath mingling in between them. He rests his forehead against hers, cupping her jaw and stroking her cheek lightly with his thumb. “Perhaps we should take this show somewhere a bit more private?” he whispers deep and low, nodding his head towards the rest of the bar, where people are undoubtedly watching.

Emma nods, looking into his eyes with steely resolve. “Where’s your place?” she asks, her voice wrecked and weak and panting.

“Close,” he says. “Where’s your car?”

They head out of the bar, their hands linked, and Emma feels wild and reckless and free. She’s going to experience firsthand what she only imagined this morning, and the thought sends a frisson of heat to her core. She’s hungry and desperate and she’s never wanted anything more in her entire life.

When they reach her car, she gets her keys out of her pocket and is about to unlock the door when Killian’s hand closes over hers. “May I?” he asks in a sultry voice. 

She answers, “Are you sure you can handle her?” with a smirk. In truth, she wants to see him drive in person, hoping he’ll take her higher, faster, before she has a chance to slow down and change her mind. 

Killian just raises his eyebrow at her and smirks, saying, “I’m quite certain I can get her purring.”

He starts the car in a hurry, and it’s seductive to see him in action, his hand gripping the shift stick tightly as he commands the vehicle out into the street. She leans over the gearshift, taking his earlobe into her mouth and sucking on it, her hand going inside the collar of his shirt, and he growls in response. 

“Careful, Swan,” he warns, the car moving swiftly, the dangers of the situation only serving to make her even more turned on.

She pulls back, moving her hand out of his shirt and slowly down to his leg, where she feels the muscles in his thigh work as he pushes on the clutch pedal. She’s not drunk, she barely had anything to drink, in fact, but the desire he’s kindling in her is roaring to life and she feels buzzed on it, her skin tingly all over and her brain fuzzy.

Squeezing his thigh, she tries to resist the urge to move her hand where she really wants it, down in between his legs. She’s afraid that might cause a car accident, and she’s not sure how she would explain _that_ one to David and Mary Margaret.

She can feel the car propelling them forward as Killian’s eyes remain focused on the road, although he occasionally glances in her direction, his eyes dark and mysterious. _What can he possibly be thinking right now?_ she wants to know.

Soon, he’s pulling to a stop, and she realizes she’s been so focused on him, she has no idea where he’s taken her. Looking up, she sees that they are a few streets away from the water, and she smiles serenely at that, knowing how the ocean is a part of Killian’s soul.

He turns to her, kissing her slowly, languidly, and it’s almost more arousing than it would be if he were to rush things, his tongue doing sinful things inside her mouth. Pulling back reluctantly, he considers her. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“Oh, so _now_ you’re going to be a gentleman?” she asks incredulously. 

He smiles, his teeth flashing brightly in the dark as he tilts his head at her. “I’m always a gentleman, Swan.”

Emma hums at that before responding, her tongue going in her cheek while she considers her words carefully. She knows she’s at the point of no return, and if she goes through with this everything will change between them, not to mention the possible repercussions to her professional career. But right now when he’s right in front of her, being considerate and caring and looking like he does - all soft blue eyes and chiseled features - she can’t imagine any other possibility than going through with it. 

“Perhaps tonight I don’t want you to be one,” she says finally, earning her a wide grin and another soft, lingering kiss. 

“Right then. Follow me.” He gets out of the car, handing her the keys, and he takes her hand as she follows him to his apartment building, a modest two-story walkup. Once they are inside, however, she can see why he chose this place for his dwelling, a huge picture window in the corner providing what’s undoubtedly an unparalleled view of the ocean, light from the moon casting shadows about the room. It’s too dark to see it clearly now, but she can hear the waves in the distance, crashing against the shore, and it excites her, the same way he does.

Turning, she pulls him to her, eager to know what else the night has in store. He crushes her mouth with his, moaning as their tongues intertwine, and she wonders if he was making this much noise at the bar but it was just too noisy to hear him. In any case, she loves that she’s able to have this effect on him, that he’s just as lost to her as she is to him.

They stumble in the darkness, running into a side table as Killian puts his hand out to steady a lamp, but she doesn’t want him to turn on the lights. It’s better this way, the night concealing their activities, and everything taking on a dream-like quality in the silver sheen of the moon.

Stopping by the couch, she circles quickly, catching him off balance and pushing him down into a seated position. She comes to stand in front of him, holding his eye contact as she very slowly grabs the hem of her top, watching as he swallows hard as inch after inch of her bare skin is revealed to him. He’s seen her in a bikini before, but this is different.

She stands there for a moment, nestled in between his legs, while she waits for him to react. With great restraint, he places all of his fingertips on her belly, and she gasps at the contact. Tremulous strokes make their way up her torso and she sighs softly, her hands reaching out to tangle in his thick locks.

Her breath catches as his fingers go higher, the anticipation building. But instead of reaching for her breasts, he circles her waist and pulls her to him, his lips going next to her bellybutton and brushing soft kisses up her ribcage. He circles back down again, and she closes her eyes, basking in each gentle press of his lips. When he reaches her pants button, his nose nuzzles into her belly just above it and she groans softly, impatient for him to make his next move. He looks up at her, watching her face intently as he unbuttons her jeans and slowly lowers her zipper, his fingers going inside her waistband to push them down over her hips. She’s surprised to find that she’s panting, his deliberate movements driving her wild as the stakes get higher and higher.

“You’re beautiful, Swan. Bloody gorgeous,” he whispers, and she smiles softly at him, glad she wore her good lingerie as she steps out of her pants.

Climbing into his lap, she settles herself firmly against him as his hands come around to cup her ass, the thin material of her lace panties only heightening each sensation. She presses her center towards him, seeking union as she bends to kiss him, her palms rubbing over his scruffy cheeks. She follows the pace he’s set for them, tasting him slowly and thoroughly, wanting to make it last as long as possible.

His hands work their way up her back and she leans her head back as he kisses down her neck and throat, across her chest and then, finally, closes his mouth over her pert nipple. The sounds coming out of her throat are raw and primal, and she rocks her hips against him in response, causing him to groan as well. Reaching back, she unclasps her bra, watching with satisfaction as Killian’s eyes widen. He rewards her with not just his mouth but his hands as well, and it’s everything she imagined it would be and more.

When she can take no more, she reaches for the hem of his shirt, determined to rid him of the offending garment. He lifts his arms obediently and she’s met with the sight of his strong shoulders and broad chest dusted with all of that glorious chest hair.

“Mmm,” she moans as she run her fingers through it, and Killian smirks at her, his hands clutching at her thighs and pulling her closer as he thrusts up against her. She cries out at that, his arousal digging into her and making her shudder with need.

“Bedroom,” she demands, and he’s quick to comply, lifting her up as she wraps her lean legs around his waist and holds on to his neck. She finds his earlobe again as he carries her, sucking and laving at it and up the thin outer shell. He gasps when she breathes heavily into his ear, so she moans for him, wanting to make him as mad for her as she is for him. “God, I want you,” she murmurs just as they reach his bed, and he lowers her onto it, laying her down softly, like she’s a precious thing.

He climbs on top of her, bending down to kiss her and their movements are more fervored now, more desperate. She wants to see how far she can push him, how close they can get to the edge before they both fall down into the abyss. Her hands push down over his hips and inside his jeans, and she’s shocked to find that he isn’t wearing a lick of underwear, his ass firm and smooth beneath her fingers. Eagerly, she reaches around to the front, grabbing at his fly and opening his pants. He lets out a strangled gasp as she finds him hard and straining, caressing his velvety skin. She’s lost to the moment as he kisses her ear, his tongue doing something decidedly naughty that she can hear in amplified tones. She strokes him with a firm hand as he moans for her, her fingertips delving into his thick thatch of hair and down between his thighs.

Pulling away suddenly, he trails kisses down her body, stopping momentarily to drop his jeans on the ground. Then he’s right in between her thighs, kissing up the inside of one leg, and she never knew she had so many sensitive spots there. She watches as he hovers over her center, breathing on her, then his hot, flat tongue licks a stripe over her underwear and she moans for him, utterly dizzy with the magnitude of feeling.

They both scramble to divest her of her panties, and then he settles next to her and it’s just them, two bodies naked and wanting. He smoothes his hand over her body before finding her core, his fingers stroking expertly through her slick heat. At this point, she’s so tense and worked up, she’s not surprised when a flash of liquid fire rushes over her body, but it shocks her nonetheless, a strangled cry escaping her throat. She’s never been made love to like this before, the passion has never been so great.

Killian smiles against her mouth as he continues pleasuring her, simultaneously working her down from her high and right back up again, her body jerking against him. Emma breaks away from his kiss to whisper, “I need you, all of you,” and he removes his hand and sits up, finding a condom in the top drawer of his nightstand. When he returns, he’s fitted the latex to himself and he lies on top of her again, their bodies aligning perfectly as she spreads her legs wide.

He stills for a moment, raising his head to look at her as he rests on his forearms and strokes her hair away from her forehead. “Do you trust me, Emma?” he asks in a soft whisper, his voice gravelly and low.

She looks into his eyes and doesn’t hesitate to answer, knowing it’s the truth. “Yes,” she says, and then he’s moving inside of her, the feeling overcoming her completely, filling her and making her whole. He’s hard and thick and her brain is turning to fluff as she clutches at the taut muscles of his back, pulling him closer and deeper.

“More,” she pants as he begins driving into her, and she knows it won’t last very long, they are both too far gone. She gasps and moans for him, the pleasure immeasurable, building and soaring, cresting like a wave. Their kisses are demanding and possessive now, and he looks wrecked whenever she gets a glimpse of his face as they pull back for air. They grasp at each other, clutching and soothing, scratching and stroking. She traces his hipbones with her hands and holds him to her possessively. His thumb finds her most sensitive spot and massages it gently and she explodes, bursting to pieces as he drives her home, thrusting deeply. The ocean is their constant backdrop, the waves roaring in their ears as they both peak and fall, finally collapsing in a heap of warm, sweat-slicked skin.

He strokes her body lightly as they kiss more slowly now, and she holds on to him, unwilling to let go. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, and then he gets up from the bed to clean himself up, and she smiles as she watches him walk away, the back view just as good as the front. He returns quickly, climbing back on top of the bed and pulling her to him.

“Stay with me,” he says, and it’s a plea and a whisper, his voice catching in his throat.

_She wants to, God, she really wants to_. “I can’t,” she tells him, shaking her head softly.

“You can,” he reassures her, cupping her cheek as he kisses her again, combing his fingers through her hair.

She’s warm and safe in his embrace, and she’s never felt like this before, doesn’t even know what this is, only that she wants more. She pulls back from his kiss, sighing deeply as she suddenly realizes how tired she is. Tired of running, tired of lying, tired of fighting off whatever _this_ is between them. 

“Will you take me to Granny’s for pancakes in the morning?” she asks.

A slow smile stretches across his face. “Aye. I’ll make them for you myself if that’ll convince you.”

“Alright,” she whispers, and then he’s pulling back the sheets and adjusting the pillows for her, making her comfortable. He wraps himself around her, tucking his chin on top of her shoulder, and she’s never felt so at ease with another person both physically and mentally.

She grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, wrapping their arms around her waist, sleepy and content. But then he’s kissing her shoulder and up behind her ear, and her body is electrified instantly, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She releases his hand to let him stroke her belly, and it begins again, just as easy as it had finished, and she wonders if their desire for one another will ever cease.

They make love once more just like that, him pressed up against her back and her knee thrown over his leg, and when she comes she cries out loudly, the sensation almost stronger than before.

They’re both exhausted when they’re done, and she snuggles into him once more, pulling the covers up to her chest. She can hear the roar of the ocean in the distance and it lulls her to sleep like a far-off lullaby. 

Much later, she awakens to the sound of a low whisper, and she’s completely still as her sleep-addled mind tries to make sense of what’s she’s hearing. 

“I’ve fallen for you, love, completely,” Killian says with so much strain in his voice, she’s startled awake. “You’re a fool to trust me, but I’ve fallen for you just the same.”

And then he’s silent, and Emma is left to ponder his words in the darkness as he resettles himself against her back and his breathing becomes deep and even.

_You’re a fool to trust me? What in the hell does that mean?_

_Oh no, she’s made a terrible mistake._ Emma panics, wondering what in the world she’s doing here, in the arms of a suspect, wrapped up like a fool in his words and promises. Only one conclusion surfaces to her mind: she’s got to get out of here.

She waits for a while as her heart races, making sure he’s asleep, then she slowly extracts herself from his arms, balking as he softly murmurs, “Emma,” in his sleep.

Creeping around the room, she finds her underwear and then continues on to the living room, where she dresses as quickly and as quietly as possible. Getting out the door unheard proves challenging, the wood weathered and warped from years of torment by the sea. She feels like a criminal as she walks quickly away from his building, shame and anguish clouding her vision.

But as soon as she’s inside her car she breathes a sigh of relief, the safety of familiar surroundings calming her nerves. Then she’s driving off into the night, without even so much as a goodbye.


	7. Chapter 7

When Emma wakes up Saturday morning, she’s struck with an alarming sense of deja vu. Her initial thought of “Shit! What did I do?” followed with a sour pitch in the pit of her stomach when she thinks of Killian and what he might be feeling or thinking right now seems to be awfully similar to how she remembers waking up _last_ Saturday, only her current level of torment is about ten times worse than it was before.

 

She rolls over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling while she rubs at her jaw. Her sleep was fitful at best, several hours spent fraught with worry before she was finally able to pass out from sheer exhaustion. She must have been clenching her jaw hard while she slept because the muscles there are tight and aching, pulsing up into her forehead where a wicked headache is forming.

 

_God, she’s a fool._ “Do you trust me, Emma?” She should have known, should have suspected there was reason for his query. But no, she’d been deceived and distracted by his tender voice and his agile hands - hands that had stroked her to oblivion over and over while she’d given herself to him. It had begun with pure want, an attraction she knew she could no longer resist. But when they’d finally come together, it was so much more than that, the connection they have pulling at her heartstrings and taking her deeper than she thought herself capable.

 

_It felt an awful lot like falling in love._

 

Red hot anger shoots through her veins as she swipes at the tears forming in her eyes. Fucking asshole was playing her the whole time, and she should have known it. He was just so charming and sensitive, she stopped seeing him as a suspect and started treating him like an actual love interest.

 

Emma chokes on a wail as she clutches a pillow to her chest. What a fucking mess, and she has no one to blame but herself. Angry, violent tears threaten to overtake her, but she pushes them back, fighting for control as she focuses on her anger, on the pain of being misled once again.

 

Neal’s face enters her mind, the way he used to look at her so affectionately, all the while plotting behind her back. She can still remember the way he’d looked so surprised when she told him she loved him, as if it never occurred to him that she would, and the way they used to chant, “Tallahassee!” as if it meant something, as if it would ever really be their home. Then there was the way he’d said, “I want _you_ ,” when she’d asked him if he was sure about settling down. All culminating in his final act of betrayal. When she’d gone out to the bug - all frenzied and full of conspiratorial energy - to tell him the cops were on their tail, she’d searched and searched for him, calling his cell phone over and over before she finally accepted the agonizing truth: he’d left her, just like everyone else had. The pain of that heartbreak is still lodged in her heart like a shard of glass, and she can feel it as her chest heaves, gasping for air.

 

_I’m over it_ , she tells herself. _I’m better now, stronger. I’m a fucking FBI agent, and I will not let Neal or any other man ruin what I’ve become_! She’d forget the whole night if she could, if the evidence of their love making wasn’t there to remind her in the form of soreness between her thighs. The worst part is, if she accepts his words as truth she has to come to terms with his other statement as well, “I’ve fallen for you, lass.” She can still hear it, the low whisper in the dark coupled with his other admittance that sent her spiraling out of control.

 

With an angry groan, she tosses back her bedcovers, anxious for a cup of coffee to help clear her head. She stalks into her kitchen and fills the coffee machine, hitting the “on” button a bit more forcefully than necessary. While she waits, she notices her phone sitting on the kitchen counter and picks it up, both scared and anxious to see if she has any messages.

 

The screen flashes to life and her breath catches in her throat when she sees that she has 2 missed calls and a voicemail from Killian. _Shit._ What could he possibly have to say to her after waking up alone? Was he angry, or just more upset that she left? Only one way to find out.

 

She takes a deep breath, but her heart is racing as she hits the play button and puts the phone to her head. His rich voice fills her ear and she’s lost for a moment, hypnotized by his deep tenor, laced with concern and frustration.

 

“Swan, it’s me, Killian. Look, I don’t know what I did to scare you away again, but I’m sorry lass.” He pauses for a moment, and she can picture him alone in his apartment trying to find the right words. He always seems to know exactly what to say.

 

“I hope it wasn’t my promise to make you pancakes that sent you running. I’ll have you know I’m actually quite adept in the kitchen,” he continues with a self-deprecating chuckle, and she smiles despite herself, running a hand through her hair.

 

“Look, whatever it is, I’m certain we can sort this out, if you’ll just talk to me.” He sighs, and there’s a soft muffled noise, like he’s running his hand over his scruff. He takes a deep breath. “I’m here, Emma….When you’re ready, call me.” She can feel her chest tighten at his words, and tears threaten to spill over once again.

 

The message ends, and Emma chucks her phone back on the counter, glaring at it as she crosses her arms over her chest because he’s so convincing she can almost feel herself being taken in again. Another thief, another liar. None of his beautiful words mean a damn thing, and she needs to keep reminding herself of that, not when he told her himself, _“You’re a fool to trust me.”_

 

But as she wraps her arms more tightly around her body, feeling anxious and alone, she can’t deny that a small part of her still aches to be there with him, lying wrapped up in his strong arms and forgetting the rest of the world exists. A tiny, fragile voice surfaces from the back of her mind whispering dangerous words… _maybe he meant something else._ Maybe he has another secret that has nothing to do with being a thief and a liar. She clings to that tiny thread of hope, all the while admonishing herself for even going there. As much as she feels angry and betrayed and confused, she still _wants_ and she’s going to have to find a way to reconcile those opposing emotions.

 

Killian Jones - tall, dark and all kinds of sexy - is a suspect in her case, and he’s most likely a criminal guilty of enough crimes to put him in jail for a long time. She was stupid to let her guard down with him, and now she has to deal with the consequences. She pours herself a cup of coffee - strong and black - and takes a large swallow.

 

The coffee is blazing hot, and it burns the back of her throat. Coughing and sputtering, a plan begins to form in her mind. Emma Swan is going to do what she does best: she’s going to run.

 

~~~~

 

Pulling into a spot on the street along Ocean Ave, Emma steps out of her yellow Mustang, slamming the door shut. She adjusts her sunglasses on her nose and walks towards the beach through Powerhouse Park. She’s driven up to Del Mar, where she knows she’s not likely to see Killian or the other guys and where the beach is a long wide swath of sand perfect for a run. She needs to sweat out her problems, get the tension out before it completely overwhelms her, and also come up with a new game plan.

 

The day is bright, the blue sky flecked with gauzy white clouds, and as she trudges over the sand to get down by the water, she’s drawn in by the azure color of the waves. She suddenly finds that she longs to be in it, to hear the roar of the surf in her ears as she balances on her surfboard, mastering mother nature. The impulse surprises her, though it probably shouldn’t. She knows the pull of the ocean is a lure that’s captured the hearts of sailors and surfers both, the way that sirens capture their victims. That constant rise and fall plus the thrill of the surf can be addicting, and it seems she’s already gotten herself hooked.

 

As she begins her run, each step grounding her as she pounds out a steady beat, she gazes longingly at the seagulls, soaring freely above the water. She aches to have that kind of freedom, to float away on the breeze and leave all her troubles behind her.

 

About 100 yards along, she spies a guy and a girl surfing together. The girl is blonde and the guy has thick, dark hair and facial scruff. For a second, her heart speeds up as she wonders if it could possibly be Killian with Tink, but as she gets closer, she realizes they are strangers and she blows out a harsh breath. Still, the sound of their laughter echoes in her ears for a long time after she passes them.

 

The pangs of jealousy she feels only serve to strengthen her resolve, however. She needs to get back to what she was assigned to do in the first place: take down a ring of criminals who have so far made a mockery of law and order. Every time they find another piece of the pirate flag, it’s a slap in the face, an arrogant calling card functioning as a F-you to the Feds and anyone else who might be on their tail. She needs to focus on the task at hand and stop letting her pesky feelings get in the way.

 

Maybe now she can. She can thank Killian for that, because his middle-of-the-night utterance served as a wakeup call for her. If he’s a guilty party in this operation, and he purposely lied to her and misled her to believe he was worthy of her trust, then he deserves the same treatment. It’s time for Emma to show him what she’s made of and that she will not be so easily manipulated. It’s time she stops playing his game and he starts playing hers.

 

These thoughts culminate in one last push, a final sprint back to the park now that she’s doubled-back along the beach. She slows to a stop, gasping as her heart pounds in her chest. She’s sweaty and tired, and it’s exactly what she needs to diffuse the ticking time bomb that wants to go off in her brain and render her inept.

 

The drive home is long because she decides to go all the way down to Mission Beach to visit Cheesy Express, her favorite place for grilled cheese sandwiches. Unfortunately, they don’t make onion rings, but she settles for fries today. Munching as she drives, her lunch is crispy, greasy and delicious - comfort food at it’s finest.

 

When she gets home, she takes a long, hot shower and rinses off any remaining traces of her rendezvous with Killian from her skin, scrubbing herself clean. Afterwards, she’s so tired she lies down on her bed for a moment clothed only in her robe and promptly falls asleep, wet hair and all.

 

The sound of her phone’s new message tone on the nightstand wakes her, as she tries to remember where she is and what the hell she was doing before she passed out, her brain fuzzy. Her first thought is that it’s Killian, and she grabs for her phone, suddenly alert.

 

When she pulls it up, however, she sees that it’s only Mary Margaret, and she realizes she’s late heading up for Saturday night dinner.

 

_Mary Margaret: Hey Emma! Pregnancy cravings are taking over. Would you mind bringing more of those yummy brownie bites? I can’t stop thinking about them. :)_

 

Emma texts her back a quick reply, letting her know she’s running a bit late, and hurries to her dresser to find some clothes. She needs to do something normal, something that will ground her, and dinner at the Nolans seems just the ticket. She only wishes she didn’t feel a bit like she’s going to be doing the walk of shame in front of them, like somehow they’ll just _know_ what she was up to last night. Taking a deep breath, she resolves not to let that happen.

 

~~~~

 

Being with the Nolans is automatically comforting, and when she collapses into Mary Margaret’s embrace a bit longer than usual, she finds David looking at her with a concerned expression on his face.

 

“Everything alright, Emma?” he asks as they break apart.

 

“Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t it be?” she answers with a tense smile and a shrug.

 

“Pasta’s almost ready!” Mary Margaret announces as she walks over to the stove to check on it. “David, get Emma a glass of wine.”

 

He pours her a glass of wine and hands it to her, as she grabs a cracker off the plate Mary Margaret’s left on the kitchen island.

 

“What’ve you guys been up to?” she asks.

 

“We were at Babies’R’Us getting our baby registry started. That took a few hours this morning,” David tells her with a grimace.

 

Mary Margaret is quick to counter with a cheerful quip. “Oh, Emma, you should have seen all the newborn clothes! They’re so cute and tiny, I can’t stand it. I want them all.”

 

Emma smiles, the thought of a baby and all it’s tiny little accoutrements taking her away from her own problems for a moment. She’s happy for her friends, she really is.

 

Just then, David’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket to look at it.

 

“Excuse me for a moment, I have to take this.” He walks back towards the hallway, leading to his office most likely, and Emma doesn’t give it much thought as she samples some lemon-artichoke spread with another cracker.

 

She and Mary Margaret chit chat until he returns with a hard edge to his face that wasn’t there previously.

 

“That was Regina,” he says, looking towards Emma. “There’s been another hit. A painting from a private home this time. The owners are out of town and the thieves were able to get in and out past a _very_ advanced security system. It took the local authorities awhile to figure out anything had even happened until someone reported the owner’s dog was on the loose. I guess it escaped when the thieves left the home.” He shakes his head.

 

“Wait a minute - _when_ did you say the heist took place?” Emma’s heart rate starts speeding up as she considers the implications.

 

David shrugs. “Last night, I guess, but they haven’t pinpointed the exact time yet. They need to get into the security system. Why?”

 

Emma tries to cover her sudden outburst by being nonchalant and giving David a small smile. She’s not about to tell him what happened last night - he’ll be furious, especially if he knew how it all ended. She’s unable to control her feet from shuffling, however, and the eagerness in her voice. If she was with Killian when the heist took place, then that _might_ mean...

 

“Oh, just curious. Where was the victim’s house?”

 

David’s frown disappears and she breathes a sigh of relief. She knows exactly how that conversation would go. He’d probably call Regina back immediately and try to get her taken off the case, and she can’t let that happen now, not when she’s gotten this close.

 

“Rancho Santa Fe, up in the hills. You know where all those swanky estate homes are.”

 

Emma nods, pondering that little tidbit. Not so far away that if he had awoken after she left him, he might have been able to get there and back before morning, making her wonder just how involved he is with the operations. If he’s in charge, then the scenario works - the guys wait for his call, and he gives it to them after he finds out she’s left his bed cold - but if he’s the one taking orders, it doesn’t quite add up. Unless they just called him suddenly out of the blue?

 

Sighing exasperatedly, she tucks her hair behind her ears.

 

“Emma, is there something you’re not telling me?” David inquires, studying her face. She doesn’t give him enough credit with his ability to ferret out the truth. Her eyes flick to Mary Margaret’s face, who’s also watching her closely.

 

She shakes her head. “No, I just get frustrated that we always seem one step behind these guys. I’ve been in for more than two weeks and I still haven’t gotten an ‘in’ on their operation.”

 

David steps closer, scratching at his cheek. “These things take time, Emma. Don’t be too hard on yourself. If these guys are as good as they seem, they’re not likely to give up their entire operation just because one of them has a new girlfriend. They’re going to have to know that you can be trusted, and there may even be tests involved.” A glimmer of concern passes over his face.

 

“Yeah, I think you’re probably right. I just need to keep pressing forward, see what little clues I can gather, even if they don’t invite me into their pirate den and expose all their inner workings,” she adds sarcastically.

 

David grins, leaning against the kitchen island. “If only it were that easy.” He pauses, before considering her again. “You holding up OK, Emma? If you get in over your head, you know, and Regina can get you out of there right away. I know it’s not always easy, especially as... _feelings_ develop.”

 

Emma nods, feigning indifference as she digs her finger into the countertop, tracing a line in the granite. “Well, whatever _feelings_ Jones is developing for me will only help my investigation. I can use that weakness  against him when the moment is right.” She flicks her eyes up to David’s, driving her point home. Nevermind that she’s developed feelings for _him_ , she has plans to squash those indefinitely.

 

David raises his eyebrows at that and a look passes between him and his wife.

 

“Now you’re starting to sound like an undercover agent,” he says, the approval evident in his tone.

 

“Just doing the job assigned to me,” she states matter-of-factly, but she can’t deny the sense of loss she feels as she vows to treat the relationship she’s developed with Killian as a means to an end and nothing more. She looks down and away from David and Mary Margaret’s inquiring gazes and hopes someone will change the subject before she breaks down and tells them everything, her throat suddenly feeling thick.

 

“David, I just realized I left the garlic bread in the extra fridge out in the garage. Would you mind getting it for me?” Mary Margaret asks sweetly.

 

“Of course.”

 

As soon as he’s gone, Mary Margaret is coming around the island, taking Emma’s hands in hers.

 

“Emma, sweetheart, are you really OK? Because it seems like there’s something you’re not telling us, and if it’s about you and Jones, well, I can understand not wanting to share it with David. But that doesn’t mean you have to suffer in silence.” Her face is all concerned solicitude, but instead of it making Emma want to tell her the truth, it only does the opposite. She suddenly just wants to reassure her, tell her that everything will be OK, because she hates seeing Mary Margaret look so worried about her.

 

“No, it’s fine,” she says, straightening her spine. She can tuck her feelings deep inside, in fact it’s good practice for what faces her ahead. Emma curls her fingers around Mary Margaret’s hands, squeezing gently as she gives her a wan smile.

 

David comes back in the room, and the ladies break apart.

 

“Thank you, dear!” Mary Margaret chirps, as she takes the package of bread out of his hand.

She throws another concerned glance back at Emma before she gets out a sheet pan and starts opening the bread.

 

Not only does she have to lie and conceal her feelings from Killian, but she has to do it with her friends (and really, her surrogate family) as well. She’s grown so much since she was a hard-edged foster child, and now she finds herself needing to return to that state of mind, as familiar as it is painful.

 

Cold, detached and calculating. It isn’t how Emma would describe herself now, but if she’s going to make it through this operation on steady feet, she needs to channel those feelings. Whether Killian is innocent or not, she knows he’s been lying to her about _something_ , and now she just needs to find out what.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to hear a little bit from Killian's point of view!

When Killian awakens Saturday morning, his senses tell him something is wrong before he even opens his eyes. The last thing he remembers is curling around Emma’s warm body, and now that warmth is gone.

 

_Emma._

 

Startled, he glances around the room, but there is no sign of her and no noises coming from the bathroom either. Flinging the covers off, he stalks through the apartment with a growing sense of alarm, but she’s nowhere to be found. Moving to the window, he checks the street for her car, but it’s gone. _Bloody hell._

 

He’s standing there, rubbing a hand over his beard before he notices that it’s broad daylight and the curtains covering his large picture window are open. And he’s still naked.

 

Normally, he might be proud as a peacock strutting around in the nude, but right now he feels exposed and more than a little bit jilted, so he walks back to his bedroom and sits down on the bed, sighing heavily.

 

The remnants of last night’s activities feel like a dream now, a conjuring of his imagination as he remembers the feel of her body pressed close to his, all that smooth skin beneath his fingertips. It was more than just sex, he knows it in his soul. There is a connection between them, a budding romance that excites him and terrifies him. Despite all that, the fact that she ran off - _again_ \- is making him extremely frustrated.

 

_What did I do wrong?_ he asks himself with a heavy heart. She seemed more than willing to accompany him to his apartment, he’d made sure of that, letting her take the lead. The way she had kissed him in the bar had been breathtaking, so full of possessiveness and heat, like she was finally ready to let her walls down. Their love making had been passionate and a display of  gentle devotion, as they both rose and fell together, drowning in feeling. And yet still she’d run off again, leaving him cold and alone.

 

_One of these days I’m going to stop chasing this woman_ , he thinks to himself, running his hand through his hair as he momentarily considers that option - she’s certainly not making it easy on him. _But it’s not going to be today._

 

Retrieving his phone from the bedside table, he doesn’t think twice before pressing the button next to her name. He takes a deep breath to steady himself as the phone rings. _Pick up, dammit._

 

No such luck. The first time he hears her voicemail, he hangs up immediately, unsure of what to say. After some mental coaching, he calls her again, determined to leave a message and still hoping she might answer. She doesn’t, and the pain of her rejection washes over him.

 

“Swan, it’s me, Killian. Look, I don’t know what I did to scare you away again, but I’m sorry lass.” He pauses for a moment, swallowing thickly as he tries to take a different tack.

 

“I hope it wasn’t my promise to make you pancakes that sent you running. I’ll have you know I’m actually quite adept in the kitchen,” he continues with a self-deprecating chuckle, hoping it will lighten the tone.

 

“Look, whatever it is, I’m certain we can sort this out, if you’ll just talk to me.” He sighs, running his hand over his scruff and taking a deep breath before he continues, wanting to make sure she understands how much he cares. “I’m here, Emma….When you’re ready, call me.”

 

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he hits the end call button and tosses it back on the bedside table. If she needs her space, he’ll give it to her. Maybe that’s the only way to get through to a woman like Emma. He’s said his piece, all he can do now is wait. It’s hardly the morning he was hoping for when he fell asleep last night, murmuring devotion in her ear, but it is what it is and he has to accept that.

 

_Wait a minute...what if she heard him?_ Is it possible she wasn’t as asleep as he’d been certain she was?

 

He sits there for a few minutes contemplating that scenario before he decides there’s no point in torturing himself over it, guilt weighing heavy in his stomach. If she decides to talk to him, he can explain. He doesn’t have to tell her everything, but perhaps he can share enough to assuage her.

 

_Bloody hell._ He can’t remember the last time he’s been this distraught over a woman. Actually, he can, but for entirely different reasons. And now, as strong as those reasons still are, they aren’t as clear and present as his current obsession with one very fiery, very inaccessible Miss Swan.

 

Ever since she appeared almost magically into his life that day he found her sitting on his towel, it’s like a light has been turned on in the darkness. She makes him laugh, more than he’s laughed in a long time, but more importantly, she makes him _feel_. His heart had grown so hard after Milah died, he wasn’t sure he would be able to fall in love again.

 

Now he knows he can, and perhaps even already has - he is certainly smitten with the lass. In the time he’s spent with Emma, he can feel his heart coming to life again, the stranglehold pain had on it slowly melting away, washing out with the tide. Every time she turns her green gaze on him and smiles her bright smile, he’s overwhelmed by her beauty, her grace, and her fragile strength. He knew right away she had walls a mile high, but he also knows she’ll be worth the climb. Already, he’s willing to climb a thousand walls for her, or beanstalks or mountains. Whatever it takes to get closer to her, if she’d just bloody well let him.

 

Of course, now he’s in a quandary because he is in fact hiding some things from her, things that if they don’t play out as planned could prove quite detrimental to their relationship. Sighing heavily, he glances at the clock. Being a navyman translated well into rising early in the morning to surf, though there was a time when he rarely got out of bed before noon, happy to commiserate with himself beneath the sheets and drown in his own sorrows. Owning a bar gives you freedom in a way that you might not have otherwise, and he drowned his sorrows while at work as well, much to the dismay of his older brother. Liam understood, though, knew how losing Milah had affected him, and patiently nursed him back to health, giving him the occasional slap upside the head when necessary. He owed Liam too much to quantify.

 

Killian figures he’s up, he might as well get out on the water, get his head clear, so he goes to get his wetsuit from where it’s hanging in the bathroom. Surfing ended up being his salvation after losing Milah. He feels closer to her there, in the ocean. He doesn’t know if her soul is at rest, but somehow it seems like she is at peace when he’s with her in the water.

 

It was also how he got involved with his little ‘band of pirates.’ He often overheard their conversations when they visited his bar, and when he ran into them on the beach, he managed to find an in with them over surfing. It isn’t always a perfect bromance - especially not with Jefferson - but they are an active lot same as he, and the bottom line is they share some common interests.

 

One of those interests is thrill-seeking, as he found that after Milah died, he no longer worried so much about dying himself, pushing the limits as fast and as hard as possible, possibly even harboring a death wish. The pirates were more than happy to show him where all the biggest breaks were, and get him involved in racing cars and even jumping out of airplanes. The adrenaline rush he got was addictive, and he hasn’t stopped pushing the limits, even though Liam admonished him enough that he tries to protect his own hide a bit more these days. He’d learned one thing for certain - he’s a survivor.

 

When he is ready to leave the house, he remembers disdainfully that he left his truck parked outside The Jolly Roger. Fortunately, he lives close enough to the beach that he can walk, so he makes his way to the carport to get his surfboard out of the storage locker. As he grabs his navy blue towel with the anchor on it, he smiles to himself, remembering the flirty blonde he met perched on it. She was so darn perky with her low-cut top and her short shorts, those toned, lean legs making quite the impression. Even then, he wanted to get his hands tangled in her long blonde hair, cascading over her shoulders in loose waves. Normally a bit subdued after spending time in the water, he found he was both intrigued and awakened by her presence. When she suggested surfing lessons, he was more than game.

 

Smiling wistfully, he begins the walk down to the beach. Now that he’s seen _all_ of her skin - and touched and tasted with feverish kisses - he longs for more. He wants to go to bed every night with Emma in his arms and wake up with her in the morning. A sudden pang of guilt washes over him as he thinks about how he only ever wanted that with _her_ , but he lets it pass. Milah would want him to be happy, of that he’s certain. The only question is if Emma wants to be happy with _him_. A part of him holds out hope that the reason she keeps running is that she _does_ see a future with him and that's what scares her. She's certainly stubborn enough for it to be true.

 

Reaching the beach, he finds a spot in the sand for his belongings and pretends not to feel like something is missing. Still, his eyes betray him as he scans the beach for her presence, hoping somehow that she’ll come find him here. Resigned, he forces himself into the water, the cool waves splashing hard on his chest and getting salt on his lips. Once he’s out past the break, he breathes peacefully, the constant roll soothing him as he waits for the perfect wave. He’s a patient man, and he’s found that his patience serves him well in many areas of life.

 

~~~~

 

Later, he returns home, and he tries to keep his cool while he goes to the bedroom to check his phone for messages. There are none, and he breathes out a ragged breath as his jaw clenches in frustration. He reminds himself though that it’s still only mid-morning and once again, patience is key.

 

He has to head into the bar soon, so he showers and changes, then goes to the kitchen to get himself something to eat. Not that he’s particularly hungry, the thought of pancakes making him wince with regret. Still, he forces down an egg sandwich, knowing how when he gets busy at work he sometimes forgets to eat.

 

He calls Liam to see if he’ll give him a lift to the bar, well aware that he’ll be full of innuendo-laden comments and questions he can’t answer, but it’s worth it not to have to walk all the way there. Sure enough, when he pulls up in front of his apartment, Killian at the ready to get in the car, there’s a smug smirk on his brother’s face.

 

“Little brother, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into last night?” he asks with a waggle of his eyebrows - a family trait.

 

Killian smiles wanly. “Wouldn’t you like to know? And it’s _younger_ brother.”

 

“I take it you showed the lady a nice time?” he asks as he pulls out into the street.

 

“I did,” Killian answers, looking out the window and avoiding his brother’s inquisitive stare.

 

“But you scared her away again?” Liam asks in a measured tone, able to pick up on what’s not being said.

 

“Some women scare more easily than others,” Killian says with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head.

 

“I’m…”

 

“Go ahead, give me the speech,” Killian groans.

 

“I was actually going to say I’m sorry,” Liam says, with a small smile. “She seems like a nice lass, like she’d be good for you.”

 

Killian shakes his head. “That she is. But perhaps she doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

 

Liam pats him on the leg reassuringly. “Ah, well, I know I give you a hard time, Killian, but you are a good man, I believe that. And if she doesn’t see it, then she doesn’t deserve you.”

 

Killian smiles uncomfortably, shifting in his seat as he scratches behind his ear. “Thanks, brother.” It kills him a little that he’s hiding things from Liam, guilt weighing heavy on him at his brother’s kind words.

 

They remain silent as they make the rest of the drive to the Jolly, and Killian is grateful for that. He already feels a bit heartbroken and he doesn’t need his brother digging any deeper into it, lest he end up pouring his heart out to him and admitting to all his foibles.

 

The rest of the day he spends restless and distracted as he tries not to check his phone incessantly for a message from Emma, his impatience growing as the day wears on. Sadly, every time he checks his phone there is no message to be found, and he huffs out coarse breath after coarse breath, drawing glances from the patrons that he is sure he answers with a frown.

 

~~~~

 

He stays until the bar closes, cleaning up as he goes along and shooing Liam off with multiple affirmations that he’ll be fine closing up on his own. He drinks a small tumbler of rum as he wipes down the bar, feeling it warm him all the way down to his belly. With every swipe of his rag, he thinks about Emma and his irritation grows. He’s been more than patient with her, giving her space when she needs it, letting her take the lead, and this is how she repays it? Running out on him in the middle of the night like he is a one night stand and refusing to speak to him about it afterwards? Surely no matter what he’s done, he doesn’t deserve that treatment. The day is over, and he’s losing hope that whatever they had between them can be salvaged. He meant what he said when he told her to take her time, he just naively thought it wouldn’t take her this long. When he finally makes it home at nearly 3 a.m., he angrily turns his phone on silent and collapses on his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

 

When he awakens mid-morning on Sunday, it’s because his phone is vibrating excessively on the nightstand, threatening to topple off the side. He picks the blasted thing up and brings it to his ear.

 

“Hello,” he says sharply, panicking for a split second when he realises it could be Emma.

 

“Jones, it’s Whale.” He blows out a huff of relief.

 

“Hey mate, what’s up?” he asks as he rubs his eyes with the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

 

“We’re meeting up today, are you coming?”

 

He’s suddenly more alert. “You mean for surfing or to discuss...that other thing?”

 

“Not for surfing.”

 

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

 

“Cool. I’ll see you at my place in an hour.”

 

Killian disconnects the call, putting his phone face down on the nightstand. If he’s going to make it down to Mission Beach in an hour, he needs to get up and get moving, something that sounds moderately disagreeable right now. However, he’s suddenly a bit anxious, running his hand over his scruff as he considers what might come out of their little meeting.

 

It’s these thoughts that consume him while he showers and dresses, heading into the kitchen to find something to eat. He’s a bit preoccupied as he shoves his phone into his jeans pocket, not even looking at the faceplate.

 

The drive down is spent going over possible scenarios, preparing himself for the meeting. As he pulls up to Whale’s house, lucking out on finding a spot on the street, he sees that Jefferson and Locksley’s cars are already there, parked behind the garage. He gets out of his car hesitantly, taking measured steps until he reaches the door, turning the knob without bothering to knock.

 

“Jones! What’s up, bro?” Whale greets, walking towards him for a handshake/bro hug combo.

 

“Not much, how’s it with you?” he asks in return.

 

“All good, man, all good,” he says, nodding towards the kitchen. “Everyone’s in here, we were just waiting for you, dude.” Killian follows behind.

 

“Beer?” Whale asks as they enter the kitchen, making his way towards the refrigerator.

 

“Sure,” Killian answers. “Afternoon, gentleman,” he calls to the others, nodding in their direction. They are seated at the round kitchen table, both men nursing a beer. Jefferson is slouched low in his seat, looking sloppy and unkempt as usual, his hair wet and tousled from the surf.

 

“Is it?” he asks, looking at his watch. “Well I suppose it is... _after noon_. How’d that happen?”

 

“It’s called the passage of time, Jefferson. Don’t they teach you these things in kindergarten anymore?” Locksley chides.

 

Killian grins, giving Locksley a fistbump. “Mate,” he says quietly and Jefferson gives him a terse smile. “Everything go as planned on Friday?”

 

“Indeed it did, mate, thanks for asking,” Robin answers.

 

Whale returns, handing Killian a bottle of beer, and pulls out a chair, sitting down. Killian sits down as well and waits expectantly.

 

“Alright boys, we’ve got our instructions. The next hit is going to be in Colorado.”

 

Killian sits up, almost spitting out his beer. “What? I thought you said Gold’s place was next!” When he looks up, he notices Jefferson jeering at him.

 

Whale shakes his head. “I know man, but just chill. It’s still on the horizon, but we just need to make sure our timing is right.”

 

Killian’s jaw clenches as he exhales sharply through his nose. “That’s what you’ve been saying for awhile now. Just when exactly _is_ the timing going to be right? The man has a couple of Van Gogh’s just sitting there for the taking. I’ve seen them with my own eyes - they’re as twisted and perverse as the man himself,” he says disdainfully. “If we get those, we could be done, all of us could be set for life.” He looks at Robin and sees that he’s definitely considering his argument, his eyebrows raising.

 

Jefferson decides to chime in. “They aren’t exactly just sitting there for the taking, _Killian_. The man has a state of the art security system. That house is practically Fort Knox.”

 

“Well, I thought you boys were going to take care of all those _pesky_ little details,” Killian intones, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

 

Jefferson glowers at him. “I’m on it, Jones. When the timing’s right, we’ll be ready.”

 

“See that we are. I can get you out, you boys just figure out how to get us in,” Killian says.

 

“Van Goghs for everyone, right!?” Whale cheers, raising his bottle and smiling.

 

The boys all raise their beer bottles, clinking them together in a toast. “Van Goghs for everyone!” Robin echoes, and they all break into laughter.

 

~~~~

 

When they’re done discussing business, Whale and Locksley open the french doors and head out onto the deck, leaning on the railing and soaking in the view of the water. Killian gets up from the table to throw his beer bottle in the recycling bin, and finds Jefferson blocking his path.

 

“So...how are things going with you and Emma?” he asks, irritating as usual.

 

“Fine,” Killian answers with a tight smile, ungrateful of the reminder.

 

Jefferson strokes his chin. “Kind of strange, isn’t it? How she just sort of appeared out of nowhere?”

 

Killian’s defenses go up. “Just what are you trying to insinuate Jefferson? That I have my own personal stalker? Because I can assure you that’s about as far from the case as it could be.”

 

Jefferson chuckles darkly. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s a brain to go with that pretty face of yours, Jones. No, what I’m insinuating is that she might be a cop.”

 

The hairs rise up on the back of Killian’s neck, but he’s quick to stifle that argument, his hackles rising as he grabs the front of Jefferson’s shirt. “That’s nonsense, and you know it! What the hell is your problem, man? Are you just jealous or are you always a paranoid little prick?”

 

Whale must have heard the rise in his voice, because he’s suddenly in the room, stepping in between them. “Boys, boys! Easy now. Easy now. Surely there’s enough babes to go around?”

 

Killian lets go of Jefferson’s shirt, but his voice is still full of venom when he speaks. “She’s not just a _babe_ to me.”

 

Jefferson sneers at that, looking pleased with himself.

 

“Why don’t you take a walk, Killian? Go cool down, get your chill back, ‘K?” Whales requests, patting him on the shoulder, the tension still thick.

 

“I was just leaving anyway.” He glares at Jefferson one last time, before nodding in Whale and Locksley’s direction.

 

As soon as he’s outside in the bright light, he sighs heavily. He’s not sure why he got into it with Jefferson considering things with Emma may be over, anyway. Why in the bloody hell did Jefferson always find the need to provoke his ire? For some reason, implying that Emma may be a cop got under his skin. It was bloody nonsense, anyway, wasn’t it? If Emma were a cop, that would mean she’s only dating him to get information, and he just can’t possibly believe...

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see that he’s gotten a text from Liam. Surprisingly, there’s also a missed call and a voicemail from Emma. Checking the timestamp, he sees that she called him this morning at 10 a.m., but he must have still been asleep. _Bollocks._

 

Ignoring Liam’s text, he presses the voicemail button forcefully and puts the phone to his ear, still scowling, though he can feel his heart rate speeding up as he anxiously awaits for the message to play.

 

“Killian, it’s Emma.” She pauses, breathing deeply, and the sound of her voice causes him to pinch the bridge of his nose.

 

“Look, I...I’m sorry about running away again,” she says in a rush and he tries not to care about the vulnerable waver in her voice.

 

“You don’t deserve that from me, you did nothing wrong, I promise. I just...I got scared and I panicked. But I’ve had some time to think and I want to talk...if you’re still willing.” She’s bloody right, he _doesn’t_ deserve it, though he finds his anger ebbing despite himself. He hears another deep breath. “Just call me, when you get this. Bye.”

 

When the message is done, he lowers the phone, gripping it tightly as his feelings go to war within him. It doesn’t sound like she heard his middle of the night confession, so then what reason did she have to run off? He’d love to hear her explanation, because he can’t think of any that make even a tiny bit of sense.

 

As he collapses inside his truck, however, he glances back towards Whale’s house and shakes his head. He looks at his phone once more, fighting the urge to hit the “call back” button. Debating it quickly, he finally decides not to call her back, the thought tightening his chest.   _Maybe it’s better off this way_ , he thinks as he drops his phone in the cupholder, his mood instantly souring. He’s still got a modicum of pride left, and after what he went through yesterday, he isn’t sure he wants to go back for more abuse. In any case, he’s already got a lot on his mind and details to take care of, and he’s not sure he’s fit for talking to right now. Whatever he and Emma become is hanging in the balance, but from where he’s sitting the forecast isn’t looking too bright.

 

All he knows is that he’s tired, the fatigue weighing heavy in his bones, and he’s hurt - he’s man enough to admit it. If she wanted to talk, she should have called him yesterday when he still had hope, when he still believed that they could make a go of things. Now he’s just not sure, and after his encounter with Jefferson, he just wants to be left alone.

 

Stubbornness overcoming him, he drives off down the street, his jaw clenching into a hard line as he leaves a little piece of his heart right there on the pavement.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Emma makes it through the rest of her dinner at the Nolan’s mostly unscathed, but she’s exhausted when she gets home, the emotional toll of the day combined with lack of sleep finally catching up with her. She quickly changes into her PJs and climbs into bed, pulling the covers up and over her head.

 

When she wakes up late Sunday morning, she feels refreshed, stretching languidly in bed. She thinks about what she needs to do today as she lies flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, twirling her hair in between her fingers. Her laundry and grocery shopping have been largely ignored this week, so there’s that. She needs to pay bills. And _oh yeah_ \- she needs to figure out how to get Killian to take her back after she ran out on him in the middle of the night.

 

_Shit._

 

Emma sits up in bed, suddenly alert as she puts her hand to her forehead. _God, she’s an idiot._ Now that she thinks about it, her actions were a bit irresponsible in regards to the case. Regardless of her personal feelings of betrayal and suspicion, she should have stayed and made the best of it. Instead she’s going to have to undo the mess she made, and if she can’t then she might have just gotten herself thrown off the case. Shame and worry come flooding in, and she tries to steady her breathing, think about things logically so she can get through this in a way that will be beneficial for everyone.

 

She’s gonna have to swallow her pride and apologize.

 

That much is clear. She’s run out on Killian twice now, chances are he’s a bit frustrated by her behavior, no matter how smitten he is with her. The problem is that Emma doesn’t _do_ relationships, she’s not used to the normalcy of relationship talks and working through issues. It’s not something that usually comes up during a one-night stand. She isn’t really sure what she’s supposed to say or how he might take it, because it’s just not something she’s really familiar with, and she’s worried she’ll make an even bigger mess out of things than they already are.

 

She tries to talk herself through it. _It’s gonna be OK, Emma, you just gotta be honest and let a little bit of yourself show through, and he’ll forgive you. It’ll be easy, right? Right._

 

Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she checks the time. It’s 10 o’clock, so if he went surfing he should be home by now. She gets a sip of water from the glass on the nightstand and stares at his name on her screen. She decides to listen to his voicemail again for inspiration, but really she’s just stalling. _OK, Emma, deep breath. You can do this._

 

Pressing the call button next to his name, she holds the phone up to her ear, composing herself. It keeps ringing, but he doesn’t answer, and she finds herself wondering if it’s intentional or not. His message plays and the voicemail tone sounds. _Here goes nothing._

 

“Killian, it’s Emma.” She pauses, breathing deeply, trying to fight the rising sense of panic.

 

“Look, I...I’m sorry about running away again,” she says in a rush, her voice wavering because it’s not everyday she apologizes to someone.

 

“You don’t deserve that from me, you did nothing wrong, I promise. I just...I got scared and I panicked. But I’ve had some time to think and I want to talk...if you’re still willing.” _That’s good, right? Keep it simple_. She continues, “Just call me, when you get this. Bye.”

 

Pressing the end call button, she releases the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, throwing her phone down on the bed and wrapping her arms around her knees, tucking them up under her chin. _That was painful, so it had better fucking work._ She wills her heart rate to slow as she experiences the after-effects of a spike in stress hormones. Being open emotionally is something she doesn’t do almost _ever_ because she has to keep her walls up in order to protect herself. A lifetime of being alone and experiencing repeated heartbreak has taught her that’s the only way to survive. However, no matter how vulnerable it makes her feel, she knows she needs to push herself if she wants to get things back on track. It’s a steep price for Emma to pay, more than it would be for most people, and it affects her whether she’s playing a character or not - the feelings are still hers.

 

Rising slowly (and waiting impatiently for him to call back), she goes about her chores for the day, sorting the laundry and putting a load in and checking the refrigerator to see what supplies she’s in need of. When her coffee pot beeps, she immediately jumps and looks at her phone before she realizes that’s not where the noise is coming from, her nerves keeping her on edge.

 

The rest of the day is spent constantly checking her phone, but to no avail. He isn’t calling her back, and her fear of rejection coupled with her anxiety about the case is causing her stomach to twist into knots. She thought she was plenty sympathetic on her voicemail, why the _hell_ isn’t he returning her call? He told her to take her time, he’d be here. So, why doesn’t he want to talk now?

 

She hasn’t been this caught up with a guy in forever, she can’t even remember when she’s cared this much about someone calling her back. It’s not fun, and frankly she’s a bit pissed off about how this is going. The undercover agent _needs_ him to call, but Emma _wants_ him to call - she can admit that to herself. She thought what they had together meant something to him, and the scars on her heart are cracking open a bit more every minute that passes by. She has to assume that maybe she didn’t mean as much to him as she thought - a sobering, but familiar realization. A little date with a punching bag at the gym seems like a good idea, but barely takes the edge off as the day is drawing to a close and she still hasn’t heard from Killian. It’s time for Plan B.

 

In the morning, she puts on her wetsuit and checks her hair and makeup one more time before leaving the house. She’s going to the beach to get Killian back, and she’s not taking no for an answer. Despite the evidence to the contrary, she _knows_ he has feelings for her, listened to his voicemail one more time and heard the quaver in his voice. He told her he was falling for her, when he thought she couldn’t even hear him in the middle of the night. She suspects his wounded pride may have caused him to give up on them, but she _can’t._ She doesn’t have a choice. Squaring her shoulders in determination, she heads outside into the sunshine.

 

When she gets to the beach, she walks out to their usual spot but she can’t find Killian anywhere. _Damn, he’s really trying hard to avoid her._ She saw his truck parked in the lot, so she knows he must be around somewhere. She decides to check down by the pier.

 

Sure enough, she recognizes his sleek black head of hair as soon as she sees it. It’s unmistakable bobbing out in the water on his black and white surfboard with the splash of bright aqua. He doesn’t seem to have spotted her, though, his head turned over his shoulder as he watches the approaching waves. She surveys the water and sees that the break is coming in hard, the waves quite a bit bigger over here than they are at their usual spot.

 

_Well, here goes nothing_ , she thinks as she enters the water. She’s attempting a grand romantic gesture, and it had better work or she’s screwed.

 

She paddles out, and as she gets deeper, she’s forced to drive her board under the waves like Killian taught her, the water towering over her in a massive display of Mother Nature’s power. _Holy crap, what did she get herself into?_

 

Eventually she makes it out to where Killian is floating, apparently completely unaware of her presence since he’s not expecting her.

 

“Killian!” she calls out to him, and he turns to her with wide eyes when he realizes who she is.

 

“Bloody hell, Emma! What in the blazes are you doing out here?” he yells at her angrily.

 

“I have to talk to you! You didn’t really leave me with any other choice!” she yells back, clutching her board tightly as another large wave rolls by.

 

“Well, perhaps I no longer wish to speak with you!” he yells at her, and it stings a bit, she has to admit that as he scowls at her. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Swan. Just go! Paddle parallel until you get away from the pier,” he says with a little less heat as she watches him begin to paddle away.

 

_No freakin’ way is she going to give up that easily_ , she thinks as she paddles after him. He sees her following behind him and growls at her, mumbling something that sounds like, “Bloody incorrigible woman!”

 

His paddling speeds up as the water rises and she realizes he’s going to take the next break. In that split second, she has to decide whether to risk following him or to give up and paddle away. Her stubborn streak rears its head and the decision is made. Tenaciously, she throws all of her energy into catching the wave, her shoulders burning as she digs into the water, stroking furiously.

 

Luckily, she makes it up on her board, and she’s pretty thrilled with herself as she cuts into the water, the wave bigger than anything she’s ridden yet, carrying her up high over the ocean floor. Her adrenaline was already intensified, but now it’s spiking. Killian is already yards away from her as he makes s-shaped curves into the curl of liquid lime, and she’s jealous of his ease on the water. Eventually, she loses her balance as the wave gets choppy, and she tumbles into the surf, gasping one last breath before she goes completely under.

 

It’s like being tossed inside of a washing machine, the currents twisting and twirling her in every direction as she fights to stay calm. There’s a rising sense of panic as the water continues to whoosh over her head and her oxygen supply wanes, her lungs constricting painfully. She needs to break the surface, and fast, or she’s going to be in very real danger.

 

Finally, she can feel the sand rough on her toes, so she pushes off of it, clawing for the surface. She takes a huge breath as soon as she breaks through the choppy surf, coughing and sputtering as she attempts to push her mop of wet hair out of her face. Her respite is short-lived, however, as another wave breaks over her head, and she focuses on swimming towards the shore, desperate for shallow water, with what little air she was able to gulp down before she was overtaken again.

 

It feels like minutes pass by, and her only thoughts are focused on her will to survive as she wrestles with the great beast of water, her ankle strap biting into her flesh as her surfboard attempts to pull her in the other direction. Just when she isn’t sure she can take anymore, she realizes she’s touching the ground again, the wave having pushed her all the way into the shore as she feels pebbles under her fingertips and the water recedes around her.

 

Kneeling in the water and pushing her hair away from her eyes that are burning from the saltwater, she gasps and coughs, barely aware of her surroundings until she hears Killian shouting desperately, “Emma! Emma!”

 

She attempts to stand up on shaky legs, faltering momentarily as she shivers and gulps in air. Killian rushes towards her, but then stops suddenly about ten feet away, looking at her with an expression that is truly terrifying. She’s never seen him this angry, his eyes nearly black, and it makes her question all sorts of assumptions she’s made about him in the past.

 

“What in the bloody hell were you thinking!?” he yells at her, his body shaking. “You could’ve drowned, Swan!”

 

For a moment, a pang of guilt washes over her as she remembers him recounting the loss of his first love, Milah, and how she drowned in the ocean. But then the remaining adrenaline in her blood resurfaces and she finds she’s furious at him for attacking her, when she was just trying to reach out to him and he is the sole reason she was out there.

 

She stalks towards him, her legs suddenly finding their strength.

 

“Why the hell are you angry at me!? I was just following you, you idiot! You could have saved us both the trouble if you’d just called me back yesterday!” she yells at the top of her lungs, oblivious to the people around them.

 

He takes a few steps closer to her, stomping through the water. “Is that right!? Well, perhaps you could’ve saved us both the trouble and returned my call on Saturday!” he yells, and Emma is taken aback, surprised at the hurt obvious behind his anger.

 

She raises her arms out to her sides, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, I’m here now, in case you haven’t noticed!” she yells at him in a petulant voice.

 

Killian creeps a bit closer, until he’s towering over her, and she’s almost a little bit scared of him, except his eyes have shifted from black to turquoise, and her breath catches as she notices little flecks of gold in them, circling his pupils as the sun hits his face.

 

“I bloody well _did_ notice, Swan, same as I noticed you going under and not coming back up for a very, very long time,” the last few words coming out as almost a sob, his chest heaving as the space between them becomes miniscule, and she gets distracted as her eyes follow the tiny rivulets of water running down his face into his ginger scruff, framing those perfect, full lips.

 

A choked sound escapes his throat as he looks her over, and she licks her lips unconsciously.

 

Their eyes lock, and she isn’t sure who moves first, but then his arms are wrapping around her, yanking her tightly against him as she grabs behind his head, pulling him down to her and kissing him hungrily. The passion between them comes to life immediately, their bodies completely attuned to one another as heat sparks between them. As she parts her lips, his tongue slides over hers and suddenly she’s weak in the knees all over again. His kiss is demanding almost to the point of being painful, but it’s also like breathing again, and she relaxes into it, letting the moment overtake her. She’s lost - so lost in him it’s like drowning, except this time she doesn’t want to surface, doesn’t want to deal with reality when he’s kissing her like this and her body is alive and on fire. She can hear Killian making noises that sound somewhere in between a sob and a sigh, his lips warm and insistent on hers as he tangles one hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head, and draws her closer with the other. She’s blown away by all the feeling he’s pouring into it, and by all the feelings breaking through the dam that she promised herself she would no longer have. She missed this - missed _them_ , and it’s undeniable even as a niggling voice in the back of her head reminds her why she’s really here.

 

When they finally break apart, coming to rest their foreheads against each other’s and taking time to just breathe, they both break into a shy smile, holding each other close.

 

“Hi,” she whispers, biting her lower lip.

 

Killian lets out a deep breath. “Hi.”

 

He tucks her hair behind her ear, speaking earnestly. “You really scared me, Emma. When I saw you go under-”

 

“Shhh,” she coaxes him, caressing his cheek. “It’s OK, I’m OK.”

 

“Aye, that you are,” he says with a soft smile until his eyes grow shadowed, his brow furrowing. “But it could have gone much differently.”

 

She kisses him again, hard, silencing his admissions of worry. When they break apart, he gazes down at her tenderly.

 

Emma smiles at him, caressing his cheek and putting her thumb into the place where his dimple should be. She knows she should be putting on an act right now, but she can’t and maybe it’s OK that she doesn’t need to. “You forget that I’m a tough lass.”

 

Killian chuckles at that, and Emma is lost in the moment, content to just be here with him, things back to normal.

 

Unexpectedly, he bends down, his hands running down her leg as she gasps at the contact, her blood running hot as she remembers the last time he touched her there, but without her wetsuit to act as a barrier. He looks up at her, arching his brow mischievously, and she’s tempted to scold him like a naughty child. When he finds the place where her surfboard’s tether is attached to her ankle and begins opening the velcro, she comprehends what he is doing, putting her hands on her hips. Each touch at her now-tender ankle is making her _want_ in a way that’s completely unfair.

 

“Really?”

 

“Really, what? I told you, Swan, I’m always a gentleman,” he says, gathering both of their surfboards and tucking them under his arms.

 

She just shakes her head, smiling as she makes her way out of the surf, Killian following behind her. Finding the place where she left her towel, she picks it up. But Killian takes it from her hands. “Here, allow me,” he says, as Emma watches him in confusion. Then he spreads it out on the sand. Getting his own towel, he motions for her to sit, and then wraps it around both of their shoulders, holding her close to his side.

 

The contact makes her panic a bit, but she forces herself to breathe and mentally reminds herself that this is all an act, she’s here to play a part. Besides, the warmth he is providing is actually pretty comforting after what she’s just experienced, and she can’t find it in herself to be anything more than grateful. He smiles down at her nervously, his eyes darting away again quickly.

 

He clears his throat lightly before speaking. “So, then, you wanted to talk?”

 

“Yes, I mean…I…” she sputters, suddenly nervous herself.

 

Killian waits expectantly for her to continue. Emma huffs as she tries to figure out what to say. _Remember, you’re here to get him back._

 

“I wanted to apologize,” she says, sighing.

 

He looks at her before turning back towards the sea, scratching lightly behind his ear. When he speaks, his voice is soft but matter-of-fact. “You ran again...why?”

 

She hesitates, considering her words carefully. “It was just too much - I wasn’t ready.” She looks down at her hands.

 

He sighs, and she can feel a bit of tension radiating off of him as he shifts in his seat. “Perhaps we can slow things down a bit?” he asks, hopefully.

 

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking,” she says, looking up at him.

 

“I can do that for you, Emma, hard though it may be,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. “Something about you always seems to make me want to move at full speed,” he adds, smiling suggestively.

 

Emma smirks at him, placing her hand on his knee. “I know the feeling,” she says in a sultry voice, meeting his gaze.

 

His puts his hand on top of hers, stilling the slow path she is making up his thigh. “But I also care about you, and if slowing things down will make you more comfortable, then a slow and steady course we shall take, if that’s agreeable?” he asks, his eyes searching hers, her heart doing a crazy little jig upon hearing his words.

 

“Yeah,” she manages to get out, holding his stare as long as she can muster and finally blinking and looking away when she can take no more. Flirting she can handle, but words about “caring for one another” are not so easy to deal with.

 

“Emma, is there something you’re not telling me?” he asks with concern.

 

She smiles coyly and emits a nervous chuckle. “No, what makes you say that?” She doesn’t meet his gaze long this time, knowing that would be unwise.

 

Killian shakes his head, but doesn’t look convinced. “No reason.”

 

There’s a pause in the conversation as they stay cuddled up on the beach, his towel still around both of their shoulders, looking out at the water and letting the soothing sound of the waves ease the tension between them.

 

Finally, Killian breaks the silence, bumping her shoulder with his. “Well, love, I’d like to say that I’ll see you Wednesday, but I actually have other plans.”

 

“Oh?” she asks, surprised.

 

“The boys and I are going skydiving Wednesday, I meant to tell you, we’ve had it planned for some time.”

 

She decides to take a chance, putting herself out there. “Can I come?”

 

Killian raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure you haven’t had enough near-death experiences for one week?”

 

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m not some delicate flower, you know that...and I’ve been wanting to try skydiving for a long time, I’ve just never had anyone to go with me.”

 

“What about work?”

 

She shrugs. “I’ll call in sick.”

 

He considers it, humming to himself. “I don’t see why not then. I’ll call the skydive company and see if we can add you to the jump. You should be able to ride tandem with me, since I’m practically a professional.”

 

“A professional, huh?” she asks, amusedly.

 

He raises his eyebrows, looking unperturbed. “Why yes, Swan, I am in fact, I’ve been doing it for years now.”

 

“Oh, I see. Will you promise to keep me safe, then?” she asks cheekily.

 

He turns until he’s looking straight at her. “Always,” he says seriously, staring deeply into her eyes, as her smile slowly fades and her insides melt. Then he cups her cheek and leans slowly towards her, and she’s powerless to resist as his lips find hers. It’s an impassioned kiss, full of promise and devotion, and when his tongue seeks entrance, she allows it. Of course, then she’s incredibly sorry because the way his tongue curls around hers is making her weak with need, heat building low in her belly as her body responds instantly to his, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair as he takes her on a wild ride. When he pulls back, she chases his lips because it’s not nearly enough, whining brazenly before she remembers where they are, their towel having fallen to the ground, exposing them.

 

He smiles smugly at her, looking all too pleased with himself. “Thought you wanted to take it slow, Swan.”

 

_Goddamn him_. Keeping her feelings in check may be hard, but keeping her libido in check will be even harder, especially if he keeps kissing her like that. She bites her lip, sighing and putting some space in between them. _Deep breaths._

 

“OK, I’m gonna go,” she says, blushing.

 

“Aye, I probably ought to go myself, before Liam reads me the riot act,” he says, chuckling as he rises from his spot on the towel. “I’ll text you the info about the skydiving.”

 

“Great,” she says, pleased with herself for both making amends and managing to get in on a group excursion. Regina will be happy.

 

“Walk you to your car?” he says, picking up their boards again, and she quickly agrees, smiling bashfully because she’s never met a guy who was this _nice_ before, and it’s almost embarrassing as much as she’s trying to view him objectively. He really wasn’t lying about being a gentleman, dammit.

 

Thankfully, he doesn’t stick around to shower off, instead kissing her quickly on the cheek and informing her that he was planning to shower and change at home, since he needs to head into work early today - vendor meeting. She’s grateful, because she’s not sure how much more temptation she can handle, and at this point seeing him peel his wetsuit off again may cause her to burst into flames.

 

Taking a quick assessment of her tangled, sand-filled hair, she decides to head home to shower as well. She lets out a long sigh. That was one risk that paid off, but it was dangerous all the same. She only hopes skydiving will prove similarly rewarding.

 

~~~~

 

Killian is as surprised to see Emma that morning as he is about anything. Not only because she isn’t an experienced enough surfer to handle the waves, but because he figured after he didn’t return her phone call that would be it - they’d be over. Of course, his wounded ego and his pride rise to the surface more quickly than his reason, and he yells at her instead of helping her get to shore. A decision he immediately regrets when she doesn’t heed his warning and instead comes after him, into the massive surf.

When he sees her go under, dread and guilt immediately wash over him, adrenaline shooting through his veins and clutching painfully at the pit of his stomach. All he can do is wait, praying for her to resurface, and it’s in that moment he realizes just how much she means to him.

 

_God, he’s a fool._ He never should have pushed her away, never should have let her out of his sight. As the seconds drag on and she’s nowhere to be found, he panics, stomping through the surf, ready to dive back in. When she resurfaces, alive but sputtering, her hair a tangled sandy mess, it’s all he can do to resist taking her into his arms right then and there. But he doesn’t know if she wants that, doesn’t know if he kisses her now if he can possibly protect himself from falling in love with her, and all the repercussions that would surely follow.

 

What he’s learning, as he gives in, taking her into his arms and crushing his mouth to hers, is that he’s completely lost to her already. Something about this woman makes him lose his wits, and he’s powerless to follow wherever she leads.

 

It occurs to him later that maybe Jefferson is not all wrong to question him about Emma. He’s never considered this woman a threat, never even thought to be suspicious. But she did appear out of nowhere, she did ask him for surfing lessons out of the blue, and then she hides something from him during their conversation - something she’s not able to tell him, for one of two reasons: she’s scared of revealing too much of her feelings, or she’s lying to him.

 

He has a hard time believing it though, the thought of her being an undercover agent almost laughable as he remembers that night and the look in her eyes as she came apart in his arms, their bodies melting together in an ancient dance of yin and yang. There was a fleeting moment where she was completely bare before him in all senses of the word, and she held nothing back, her eyes shining with something genuine and deep, something that she couldn’t possibly have been faking if she’d tried.

 

It’s that fervent look that has been haunting him ever since, that made him so desperate to have her back even though she’d scorned him again. Frustration and strain had hardened his heart, but when she’d almost drowned - the thought still making his heart clench hours later - he changed his mind, relented in a heartbeat, and happily so.

 

Their reunion had been sweet and passionate, her kiss more than making up for her lack of verbal communication. Everything he needed to know he found in the press of her lips against his, the tangle of her hands in his hair, the feel of her body molding against his as she let her body do the talking.

 

There are still a lot of things he wants to learn about the enigmatic Emma Swan, more unraveling he wants to do piece by piece and bit by bit until he learns her through and through. He only hopes she’ll continue to allow it.

 

~~~~

 

Emma is feeling especially upbeat after making up with Killian. She’s able to make a positive report in her weekly meeting with Regina, who was especially pleased that she’d gotten in on the skydiving excursion, though she warned her to be careful.

 

“Well, the good news is I’m going to be strapped onto Killian, so I doubt he’d try anything,” she told her.

 

Regina raised a cool eyebrow. “Oh, I bet there’s many things he’d like to try with you ‘strapped on’ to him. Just make sure you focus on the case and not on joining the mile high club,” she’d said evenly, one eye on Emma and the other on the paperwork she was busy filling out.

 

Emma balked, saluted her boss with a “Yes, Ma’am,” and left her office as quickly as possible. She didn’t realize just how many uncomfortable conversations she was going to be involved in when she accepted the undercover case. Apparently that was part of the job description.

 

Tuesday proves a bit more tricky. Killian texts her, asking if he can pick her up at her apartment and drive her to the airfield. That is a no-go, and she is tasked with trying to talk him out of it while remaining as unsuspicious as possible.

 

_Emma Swan: Oh! Could we meet down at the beach? Then we could have lunch at Granny’s after._

 

_Killian Jones: Sure. But it’s no problem for me to swing by your apartment. Unless you don’t want me to know where you live?_

 

_Emma Swan: Haha. Of course not, I just missed out on those pancakes I was promised._

 

A beat passes, and Emma holds her breath, wondering if it was a bad idea to bring up that topic again, since it undoubtedly carries bad feelings with it.

 

_Killian Jones: Alright then, I’ll see you at the beach parking lot at 7._

 

_Emma Swan: Great. I’m excited! See you soon. :)_

She lets out a deep breath. She hasn’t thought much about whether or not Killian might want to pick her up at her place before. Or even stay the night, the way things are going. It’s something she’ll have to brainstorm with Regina, but in the meantime, she needs to keep him focused on his place and hope that he’s self-centered enough not to notice.

 

Wednesday morning, Emma is nervous, her stomach twisted in knots. Fortunately, it’s the excited kind of nervousness that comes from the fact that she’s going to be trying something new. It’s not every day that she jumps out of an airplane.

 

Driving down to the beach, she hopes Killian is happy to see her and isn’t too questioning about her refusal to have him pick her up at her place. If he asks her, she can always make excuses about her apartment being dirty or hard to find from the freeway.

 

Pulling into the lot, she sees Killian is already there, legs crossed and leaning back against his truck with his hands in his pockets. _Hot damn._ He’s wearing a plaid button-up that isn’t entirely buttoned up, his chest hair peeking out the top. His hair is tousled in the wind, and even from far away she can see his blue eyes glowing in the early morning sunlight, contrasting starkly with his tan skin and dark features. He smiles brightly when he sees her pull up, standing upright and opening her car door for her before she can do it herself. As she goes to stand up, he takes her hand and helps her from the car, and her cheeks burn. He’s such a romantic idiot.

 

Of course, it’s hard to stay mad when he’s looking at her like _that_ , his eyes tender and adoring as he takes in her low-cut white t-shirt and her faded, hip-hugging skinny jeans. She tries to remind herself that she’s playing a part, that this isn’t real. But _fuck_ if he isn’t one of the most attractive things she’s ever seen this early in the morning.

 

“Morning, Swan,” he says, his accent especially heavy as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, checking her face to make sure she’s comfortable.

 

“Morning,” she replies, her hands going to his biceps, rock solid beneath the soft material of his shirt. She has a vague inclination to rub her nose in his chest hair, but stops herself, grinning at the thought. Still, he notices her perusal of his open shirt and raises an eyebrow at her.

 

Bending down, he whispers hot and moist in her ear, “See something you like, love?” and shivers run through her uncontrollably.

 

“Well,” she says in as provocative a voice as she can, “I like _you_ , so…” She raises her eyebrow back at him, grinning and knowing full well she’s driving him crazy. _Right in the palm of her hand._

 

He bends down to kiss her, his tongue slipping between her lips right away, causing a strong clench between her thighs as he tilts his head, exploring the depths of her mouth. _Thunk_. Her ass hits her car as he presses her into the door, one hand running up her thigh and over her hip, his fingertips dancing under the hem of her shirt. His other hand is tangled in her hair and she takes the opportunity to shamelessly work her fingers into that chest hair she’d been eyeing earlier.

 

She pulls back, scraping her teeth along his lower lip before she finally lets go of it, and he growls - literally growls - as he chases her lips, his eyes hooded and dark.

 

“What was that you were saying, darling? Something about slowing things down?” He rocks his hips into hers gently, and she gasps slightly at the contact.

 

“Mmm,” Emma hums. “I can’t help myself, you just taste so good.”

 

Groaning, he bites his lip. “You’re a bloody temptress.”

 

Emma just shrugs nonchalantly. “It was just a kiss,” she says innocently, working her hands into the back pockets of his faded, well worn jeans. As she pulls him into the cradle of her thighs, she can feel he’s rock hard for her, and it makes her smile triumphantly. _Well done, Emma. Keep the blood away from his brain and he's less likely to suspect anything._

 

“Well, fortunately or not we have somewhere to be. Otherwise, I might be tempted to have you right here in the back seat of your little convertible,” he teases, and Emma grows warm all over, losing her cool for a second as his words have their intended effect.

 

Glancing down at her watch, she decides it’s time to get moving. “We’d better get going,” she tells him, “or I might be tempted to say yes.” She bites her lip, and he laughs softly, shaking his head.

 

He takes one more long look at her, a goofy grin plastered on his face, before he backs away from her. She grabs her bag from the car and walks over to his, where he not only unlocks it, but opens the door for her, and she rolls her eyes at him, even though she still smiles. “Thank you.”

 

The drive down to the airfield is long, and even though they can use the carpool lane, there’s still traffic. She’s nervous about spending so much time alone with him, but he seems to sense her hesitation to talk about herself, instead turning up the radio and singing along with whatever’s playing. A very hearty rendition of White Snake’s “Here I Go Again” complete with air guitar makes her laugh uncontrollably, clutching her sides as she watches his face contort into ridiculous features. She joins him when he sings along with “All About That Bass,” teasing him by running her hands over her ass. Altogether, it’s far less terrifying than she thought it would be, and she’s grateful to him for that.

 

Finally, they pull up to the skydiving school (which is essentially a non-descript beige hangar) and hop out, catching the attention of Whale and Jefferson, who are walking towards the building. Emma’s nerves act up again, knowing that Jefferson may give her trouble. Before she can say anything, Killian is wrapping his arm around her waist protectively.

 

“Morning, pirates. Ready to do some flying?” he asks. Emma smiles, watching their interaction.

 

“I was born ready!” Whale exclaims, giving Killian a fistbump.

 

“Jones,” Jefferson says with a nod, eyeing Emma warily. “What about you, Swan, you ready to fly?” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but otherwise he appears friendly, at least more so than usual.

 

“Yeah,” she answers, “I’m ready to test my wings,” she adds, smiling broadly, not letting him know she’s the least bit scared of him or anything else as she holds his gaze.

 

“That’s right, Emma! I hope you’re pumped, girl, cuz we gonna get you high to-day!” Whale exclaims theatrically, holding out his knuckles for a fistbump. She has to smile at his enthusiasm, no matter how ridiculous he might sound at times.

 

They make their way into the skydiving school, and are accosted by a stack of paperwork to fill out, with phrases like, “In the event of your death,” to put her completely at ease. Afterwards, they’re shown to the changing rooms, where they’re given jumpsuits to put on. Emma finds a room and steps inside, closing the door behind her. She’s stripped down to her underwear and a thin white tank when someone knocks on the door.

 

“Mind if I join you, Emma?” she hears Killian say in a loud whisper. Biting her lip, she briefly considers her options before turning the door handle, peeking out before ushering him inside quickly and shutting the door again. His eyes grow dark as he looks her over, and she burns under his gaze, her skin tingling. When he doesn’t make a move besides tossing his jumpsuit on the bench, she turns around, reaching for her own.

 

She sucks in a harsh breath when she feels his hands on her hips, his torso pressing up against her back. He nibbles at her neck before he whips her around, turning her to face him. Before she can even gasp, he’s kissing her, fast and desperate, pressing her back against the wall of the dressing room as she moans into his mouth and clutches at his shoulders. She whimpers as he moves along her jaw to the underside of her ear, nibbling at her lobe before he whispers, “Maybe we should just stay here, Swan. You already take me high enough.”

 

She laughs softly in response, but it quickly turns into a gasp as his fingers find their way underneath her shirt, skimming over her breast with a soft squeeze, then tucking themselves inside the top of her panties. _Oh, God._ She should stop him, she really should, but her body is electrified, and it’s hard to think straight when her every thought is focused on the drag of his fingertips across her skin, sinking lower, lower, lower as his mouth finds that spot on her neck that makes her writhe in pleasure as she grips his back tightly.

 

“Swan, tell me to stop, love,” he growls into her ear as her head falls back against the wall of the dressing room with a thud and she closes her eyes. His fingers are combing through the thatch of hair above her center, and she’s not sure she’s capable of coherent speech at this point, her hips lifting towards his touch.

 

“Please,” she gets out, whispering, sounding wrecked already and he’s barely touched her.

 

He lifts his head, his hand going up with it. “Please what? Please stop? Or please continue?” He searches her eyes when she opens them, waiting intently for her response.

 

He’s given her an out, a perfectly respectable opportunity to stop what they’re doing. On top of the fact that this is _not_ part of her job description, there’s also the fact that anyone could hear them and they could get caught. Somehow, the thrill of it all - _the naughtiness_ \- makes her even hotter for him. She knows what she’ll say before the words even come out of her mouth.

 

“Don’t stop,” she tells him, her voice low and rough, her eyes pleading.

 

She finds his mouth again, revelling in the feel of his lips and teeth and tongue, tasting and exploring as his hand resumes it’s southbound path. When it finds what it’s looking for, she gasps, twitching and bouncing back against the wall, the sensation intense. She’s been excited for hours, on edge and full of adrenaline, so it’s no surprise that she’s already lush and slick for him, and he groans when he feels just how wet she really is.

 

“Fuck,” he bites out, diving in to kiss her even harder, his middle finger stroking through her folds as she tries to hold back her moans.

 

Killian takes her high quickly, his fingers nimble as his other hand works over her breast. Emma can hardly think straight, can hardly contain herself as she breathes in the smell of him all around her, the feel of him handling her expertly. He’s just pulled down her tank top and the cup of her bra and is closing his mouth over her nipple when one of the changing room doors bangs shut, and she can see feet moving in the hallway underneath the door of their room as she holds his head to her chest.

 

“See you guys out there!” she hears Whale call, her teeth biting down hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out. Emma wishes she could pretend she is classier than this, but she has to admit, it’s hot as hell, and the excitement is pushing her to the brink in record time.

 

“Shit!” she whispers hoarsely, her mouth falling open on a gasp as he buries two fingers inside of her.

 

“Hey!” she hears Jefferson say, knocking on their door. “Everything alright in there?” he asks, obviously jesting.

 

“Yes! Fine!” Emma calls out, hoping he’ll just go away. Palming Killian’s erection in retaliation, he groans softly and she hears Jefferson mutter, “We’ll just be waiting…out there. Whenever you two are done.” She should be embarrassed, she should give a fuck about the fact that everyone will know what they’ve been up to, but right now all she knows is pleasure, all she feels is bliss as he takes her even higher.

 

Grabbing the back of Killian’s head by the scruff of his hair, she jerks him back up to kiss her, hoping to at least drown out some of the noise of her impending release. As he circles her clit with a slick finger, she can’t hold back the soft _“Ohhh…_ ” that escapes as she shatters into a million little pieces, before she claps her hand over her mouth, completely mortified. He pulls her hand away from her face and kisses her, taking his hand out of her panties and thrusting lightly against her with his hips, before he pulls away, smiling as she breaks into a fit of giggles, resting her forehead on his chest.

 

“Sorry?” he asks with a sarcastic raise of his eyebrows.

 

“Hmph,” she groans, placing her hand on her forehead. “Nothing to be sorry about there.” She blows out a harsh breath, still shaking as tremors rush through her.

 

Placing one last kiss on her lips, he backs away from her, pulling off his shoes and preparing to change. As he drops his pants to the ground, she’s a bit surprised to see he’s wearing boxer briefs - not like last time. She circles her hands around his hips from behind, pressing herself into his back. “Don’t you want me to...return the favor?” she asks seductively.

 

Killian places his hands over hers, stopping them. “Not necessary, Swan, I assure you. Your pleasure is satisfaction enough for me.” Emma raises her eyebrows at that, but doesn’t question him, knowing the rest of the group is probably out there waiting for them as it is. Such a dangerous game she’s playing. One that she intends to win, and so far she certainly seems to be ‘coming’ out ahead. She’s pleased to find she doesn’t feel the least bit guilty this time, knowing exactly what she’s willing to take from him, and also what’s she willing to give in return.

 

She finishes changing before him, and decides it might be best for her to exit alone, in case one of the skydive instructors notices. “I’ll head out there, if that’s OK?” she asks, her hand on the doorknob.

 

“Aye,” he answers over his shoulder. “That’s probably best.”

 

Carrying her stuff with her to the locker room, she sees that someone has left their cell phone on the long wooden bench flanking the lockers. Looking around, she doesn’t see anyone, so she approaches it quickly. The feds have been unable to get any intel off the guys’ cell phone records, so they assume (if they’re guilty) they’re using burner phones for conspicuous activity. Picking up the phone, she hits the home button and the screen flashes to life. Holy crap, it’s unlocked.

 

She immediately goes to the messages, scanning through them for anything relevant. There’s a recent text from someone named “A.B.” _We’re on for Saturday night. Gold’s place. Be prepared._

 

Emma barely has time to close the message app when she hears footsteps approaching, and her heart thunders in her chest as she prepares her explanation, hoping it’s Killian. It’s Whale.

 

“Hey! Is this your phone?” she asks as casually as possible, holding it out to him. “I found it here on the bench.” She smiles at him, but she knows her features are tense, her mouth feeling like plastic.

 

Whale looks at her and for the first time something dark and dangerous passes over his normally relaxed features, before it disappears and he takes the phone from her, smiling again. “Yeah, thanks! I was just looking for that. You didn’t look through my webpages, did you? I might have some embarrassing stuff on there!” he says, laughing with a tinge of false geniality.

 

“No! Of course not, I just picked it up, actually,” she answers, shaking her head.

 

He seems to buy it, but as he walks away, he turns to look back at her one last time, and Emma is left feeling exposed and full of nervous energy as he looks her over, still buzzing from her earlier activities as it is. He disappears around the corner. Just then, Killian comes up behind her, squeezing her shoulder and making her jump slightly.

 

“What was that all about?” he asks, curious.

 

“Oh, nothing, Whale just left his phone on the bench and I found it sitting here.” She feels a bit calmer in his presence, even though she now knows he’s at least associating, if not involved with the criminals. _Oh, God._ He’s involved with the criminals. Her heart rate speeds up involuntarily as her shoulder tenses beneath the weight of his hand.

 

She looks up at him and smiles, but she knows her heart isn’t in it, and Killian peers at her curiously. “Everything alright, Emma?” _Shit. Why does he always have to be so goddamn perceptive?_

 

“Yeah, fine. Just nervous about the jump, I guess,” she says, trying to play it off. She sees his face soften as he smiles at her, chuckling softly.

 

“Nothing like your first jump. If you think surfing is exciting, you’re going to love this.”

 

“I hope so! I mean, I think I will,” she says breathlessly, standing up and gathering her stuff to put in a locker. She shoves it inside and takes the key out, locking it.

 

Killian puts his hand on her hip, looking down at her tenderly. “You just stay with me, love, I promise you’ll have a good time,” he says, the last words coming out more than a little bit suggestive as he tilts his head at her. Playing her part, she smiles up at him adoringly and kisses him, her lips lingering enough to properly distract him until they’re startled by a voice behind her.

 

“You two! Enough with the fooling around. Let’s go!”

 

She turns around to see Whale standing there, looking at them curiously, his eyes a bit more calculating than she’s used to.

 

“Alright, we’re coming!” Killian says, winking at her, and they make their way into the training room.

 

When they’re finally in the air, the wind blowing around the inside of the airplane, Emma has some time to think. Gold’s place...Gold. Where has she heard that name before? She’s not surprised that Whale and the others are in on the heists, not exactly. Perhaps disappointed is more appropriate. Angry for sure, at them, at the whole situation. She’s filled with a sense of dread, knowing that it’s only a matter of time until Killian finds out she’s undercover, and he’ll be furious with her. The thought makes her jaw harden. Serves him right, for lying to her, for being a criminal in the first place. Every sin has its punishment.

 

Still, she can’t help the rush of desire that spreads through her as she’s strapped onto Killian, his body warm and hard against hers, his muscles shifting against her spine. Despite everything that’s going on right now, she’s about to jump out of an airplane, and for a minute or two she lets herself get excited about that fact - lets herself live in the moment, alive and full of adrenaline.

 

“This is it, Emma, this is the pirate’s life. Are you ready for the rush?” Whale asks her, as Jefferson smiles, pulling his goggles down over his eyes.

 

“Whoooo!” she cheers. “Hell yeah, I’m ready!”

 

“Come on, Whale! Are you gonna jump or do we have to push you?” Killian teases, as Whale stands at the open door, looking over his shoulder.

 

“I was just waiting for you, Jones! Adiós, amigos!” he yells, before jumping out of the door, and Emma’s heart races, knowing their turn is coming.

 

Jefferson just raises an invisible hat at them before he falls backwards, into the abyss of blue.

 

They step forward in unison, and Killian says, “Here we go!” before he places a soft kiss on her neck, electrifying her. There’s no warning before he’s jumping forward, and her feet leave the ground, her heart in her throat as the wind rushes around them.

 

She tries to take in everything - the color of the sky, the roll of the golden landscape, the sparkling blue of the ocean in the distance. It’s amazing, intoxicating, absolutely breathtaking. With her arms spread wide, she feels like a bird, like she’s flying.

 

“Whoo hoo!” she hears Whale yelling, pointing at them before doing several flips, head over feet. Jeff as well is spinning all around, pumping his fist in the air and yelling, making it look like child’s play.

 

A triumphant scream rips from her throat, on delay from when they first jumped, finally loosing the tension from her body, and she feels Killian laughing behind her.

 

“How do you like it, Swan?” she hears him ask over the roar of the wind in her ears.

 

“Amazing!” she yells back, unable to contain the smile on her face as she watches the ground slowly growing closer beneath them.

 

They stay suspended that way for what feels like forever, and for those minutes she’s free, she’s alive, and she is almost jealous of this life they lead - full of adventure and risk-taking - they own it and they love every minute of it. But they’re only free for now, because she knows their time is coming.

 

As they near the ground, there’s that split second where she wonders if the parachute will work, but it does, jerking them backwards forcefully until they are floating towards the ground, Killian steering them along as she hangs there, powerless.

 

Emma’s brow furrows as they begin their descent back to reality. Gold...Gold... _Milah_ Gold. Her breath catches in her throat.


	10. Chapter 10

The ride home from the airfield is full of unspoken tension, Emma attempting to cover for her lack of conversation by turning up the volume on the radio and casting sideways smiles in Killian’s direction every time he turns to look at her. Despite the loud volume of the music, she worries that he’ll be able to _hear_ her thinking, the wheels in her brain rotating furiously as she considers the new information she’s collected.

 

The boys are going to hit Gold’s mansion on Saturday. Robert Gold, the wealthy real estate mogul and antiques dealer and also the former spouse of Milah Gold, Killian’s first love. _There’s no way Killian isn’t involved in this_ , she thinks as her heart sinks, watching as the sun coming in through the window turns his beard a brilliant shade of ginger. She itches to run her fingernails through it, to scratch lightly over his jaw and just ask him, “What in the hell are you up to?” A part of her thinks he may even tell her the truth.

 

But she _can’t._ There’s too much at stake now, and she can’t take the chance that she’s wrong about him, that he wouldn’t go straight to the other guys and reveal her true identity, putting her at risk. _No_ , she thinks as she swallows down the lump in her throat. She needs to get back to her office and have a little talk with David and Regina, figure out a gameplan.

 

She feels breathless and agitated, and when Killian puts his hand on her thigh, she jumps. “Everything alright?” he asks, eyeing her with concern as she fidgets in her seat.

 

Emma tucks her hair behind her ears as she attempts to placate him. “Yeah, great! I guess I’m still a bit amped from all that adrenaline,” she says, smiling. She rubs her hand over his thigh comfortingly.

 

His face relaxes. “Aye. Skydiving can have that effect on you, I’m afraid. It can be addictive as well.”

 

She smiles, and he continues. “We’re almost back. Are we still on for lunch at Granny’s?”

 

Emma balks, she’d forgotten all about her diversionary tactic. “Oh, right. Lunch, yeah. How about a raincheck?” she asks hopefully, scrunching her face up. She’s not sure she’ll be able to sit through lunch right now, her brain rife with intel and questions and her emotions bouncing all over the place.

 

Disappointment washes over Killian’s face, and her heart clenches. She tells herself it’s for the best, anyhow. Soon enough he’ll know the truth about their sham of a relationship, and she might as well start putting some distance between them. It’s... _safer_ that way.

 

“Oh, do you have somewhere to be? I thought you’d called in sick, love?”

 

Emma bites her lower lip, looking out the passenger side window as the hills fly by. She’s so tired of lying.

 

“I did, but you know I realized I have a project deadline coming up that I really shouldn’t ignore, otherwise my boss will have my hide,” she says, with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I guess I’m not so good at this playing hooky thing.”

 

Killian isn’t backing down, and something in the tone of his voice lets her know he’s not buying her story completely.

 

“What is it? Your project? Is it a print campaign or digital?” he asks with a raised brow, his eyes shifting between her and the road ahead of them.

 

Emma flusters for a second before she remembers one of her cover stories, her heart speeding up involuntarily. She can actually feel herself starting to sweat, especially when Killian turns those intense blue eyes on her, watching her every move.

 

“Oh, you know Intuit? That company that makes financial software? We’re just putting together some new branding designs for them.” She chuckles lightly, picking at a non-existent speck on her knee. Intuit is a company based in San Diego, but not interesting enough for it to be public knowledge as to who does their advertising. “I’m supposed to have one of the packaging designs ready to pitch on Friday,” she adds, trying to sound normal.

 

“Another time, then.” Killian nods, seemingly satisfied, and she gets irritated suddenly, mad that he should be questioning her at all when _he’s_ the one in with a ring of criminals, planning what’s likely to be a multi-million dollar heist. If anyone should be doing the questioning, it should be _her_.

 

She turns towards him in her seat, measuring her words carefully. “So, Killian. What’s the deal with all your friends? Don’t any of them have a day job?” Her eyes narrow slightly.

 

He clears his throat, scratching lightly behind his ear and she watches him carefully as he sits up slightly in his seat. “Well, no, I suppose they don’t, not in the traditional sense. But I’m the one with the off schedule, really, working at a pub, and we wouldn’t have met otherwise most likely.”

 

She presses him further, risking pushing him out of his comfort zone, suddenly feeling zealous. “But I mean, a group of guys our age all being that wealthy? What are the chances?” she asks sarcastically.

 

Killian tilts his head to the side, and she can see him swallow. “I hate to tell you this, Swan, but I’m not actually as wealthy as I look.” He flashes a smile at her, and she knows he’s changing the subject, but she can’t help but respond to the teasing in his voice. Damn charming bastard, he’s completely disarming.

 

Emma smirks, her prior irritation seemingly forgotten. “You mean, you don’t really own a bar and an apartment walking distance from the beach?” she asks, batting her eyelashes teasingly.

 

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid the bar is still mortgaged up to here,” he says, holding his hand under his chin, “and the apartment is rented, not owned. So if you were hoping to shack up with a moneyed playboy, you’d do better to hang on Jefferson’s arm.” He looks at her with a gleam in his eyes, and she scoffs at him.

 

“Jefferson, right. That guy doesn’t like me one bit. Are you sure he’s into women?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

 

At that, Killian’s rich laughter fills the truck cabin. “Aye,” he says, nodding. “In fact, I’m convinced he’s just jealous I met you first,” he says, placing his hand over hers and giving her fingers a small squeeze. “Finders keepers, I always say.” He turns and winks at her, and she smiles, warmth spreading through her. It’s been a long time since she “belonged” to someone.

 

As they pull up behind her car and come to a stop, Emma is suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of sadness, and the realization that all of this is very shortly and very surely coming to an end. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she turns to Killian until her knee is touching his on the bench seat and she just stares at him for a moment, appreciating all the lines of his handsome face - the strong cut of his jaw; the perfect angle of his nose; his dark, masculine eyebrows. She misses him already, and he’s not even gone yet. Her hand reaches out, unconsciously, and she lightly scratches her nails over his beard the way she had wanted to earlier.

 

He just stares back at her, studying her for a moment, too, with a furrow on his brow, his hand coming up to clutch at her forearm as he turns to place a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. Just as it looks like he’s about to ask her a question she doesn’t want to answer, she surges forward and stops his lips with her own. She can tell she’s surprised him, but he responds momentarily, wrapping his arms around her as he dips his head and deepens the kiss. It’s sweet and full of heat and temptation that she already knows she can’t resist, and she allows herself to savor it, knowing it could very well be their last.

 

By the time they pull away, nuzzling their noses against each other as they both sigh contentedly, it feels like there isn’t enough air in the cabin, so she pulls back reluctantly, one hand on the door handle, watching Killian’s dazed expression. Slinking out of the truck, she tugs her bag along with her and closes the door, turning back to look at him through the window he’s lowered.

 

“Emma?” he says, and she finds she’s having a hard time looking at him in the eye.

 

“Yes?” she answers finally, her gaze meeting his.

 

“I had a good time with you today,” he says, a small smile lighting up his eyes. “I’ll see you Friday morning then? For another lesson?” he asks, and her heart breaks at the insecurity she hears in his voice, knowing how much he waits on her and that already she’s given him reason to doubt her feelings for him again.

 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she says, smiling warmly, and it makes her happy when the fog lifts from his face, a broad grin contrasting his pearly white teeth against his tan skin. _If only..._ she thinks once again, chastising herself for her weakness when it comes to him. “Bye,” she adds, turning away before he can see the war going on within her. She blows out a harsh breath and reaches for her car keys, listening as his engine revs and the truck pulls away. It’s only then that she allows herself to turn and watch him go, her eyes glued to the back of his dark head all the way until he’s out of sight.

 

~~~~

 

When she reaches the office, she immediately goes to find David and rallies him in to see Regina. As soon as they’re all seated, she addresses them both.

 

“So, I managed to get some major intel out of today’s little skydiving adventure.” She pauses, taking a breath as she scans their faces before she drops the bomb. “I know where their next hit is going to be.”

 

“What!? Where?” they both ask at the same time.

 

“Gold’s mansion. You know, Robert Gold, I would assume, since he has ties to Killian and also deals in antiques. Chances are he’s got something worth stealing?”

 

“Gold, interesting,” David comments, rubbing his palm over his chin.

 

“Yes, very interesting,” Regina adds, scowling. “I know for a fact the man owns two Van Goghs, I saw an article about it in the local newspaper a while back.”

 

“But is it just about the paintings? Or is this a personal vendetta?” David asks, looking between the two women. Regina tilts her head, considering.

 

“That’s my theory, actually, as to why Killian is involved. He doesn’t seem to be entirely part of the gang, he seems like a bit of a lone wolf to me. I think the hit on Gold’s mansion has to have something to do with Milah,” Emma explains, sitting up in her chair.

 

Regina raises an eyebrow, clasping her hands together on top of the desk as she shrugs her shoulders. “Or he’s an opportunist, plain and simple. A pirate who’s seen the goods in person and they’re too tantalizing to ignore.”

 

Emma shakes her head. “No, I don’t believe that. When Killian spoke of Milah, he was completely heartbroken, haunted even. He hasn’t really gotten over her death. I can’t see him waltzing into her house without that having some sort of impact on him.”

 

David hums. “What were the circumstances surrounding her death, anyway? Do you know Regina? Was it an accident or was there any indication of foul play?”

 

Regina looks around, as if checking to make sure that no one is listening. Then she leans forward on the desk, looking both Emma and David in the eyes. “Alright, look. It’s not public knowledge, but some friends in the San Diego P.D. made it known that the investigation into Milah Gold’s death was a complete sham. All hush-hush and swept under the table, which could be because Robert Gold is a bit of a V.I.P. but more likely a result of a bribe or two into the right hands. No one was allowed to cast any suspicion his way, in any case. It’s never been close enough for me to have any involvement in it, but Robert Gold is one slick piece of work. He looks like a golden boy from the outside, but if you ask me he’s got slimy little reptile written all over him.” Regina curls her lip in distaste.

 

Emma and David exchange a look.

 

“Slimy enough to kill his own wife?” David asks.

 

Regina shakes her head. “You’ve watched enough Dateline, haven’t you, David? It’s _always_ the spouse. The problem is the P.D. wrote it off as an accident.”

 

Emma’s mind is racing a mile a minute as she considers the possibilities.

 

“So that’s the angle then? Get his revenge for killing his lover by stealing Gold’s priceless works of art?” David speculates.

 

“Or maybe it’s not about the art at all. Maybe there’s something inside the house that Killian’s trying to get to, and this is his opportunity to do it,” Emma finally chimes in, watching as Regina’s eyebrow furrows in concern. She knows she sounds just a bit too concerned about Killian’s motives, but she can’t help it, she _is_ concerned.

 

“Whatever the reason, Ms. Swan, the plan is in motion and we’re going to be there to let the pirates know the jig is up. We need to scout the area, figure out where to set up base. He’s got a lot of land, I’m sure there’ll be trees for cover. We set the trap and wait for them to fall in it,” Regina instructs.

 

“What about Gold? Does he need to be notified?” Emma asks.

 

“No way am I inviting that snake to the party! This is the best lead we’ve had in years, and I won’t let Robert Gold stand in my way. He’s likely to make a stink later, of course, but I’m willing to deal with the fallout if it means we get our men,” Regina says determinedly.

 

“Okay,” David says in closing, looking between the two women.

 

Emma just sits there, temporarily stunned and unable to move, until Regina clears her throat.

 

“Well, what are you waiting for agents? Go catch me some art thieves!” She purses her lips in disdain, shooing them out of her office once they’ve both jumped out of their seats.

 

“So, revenge on Gold, huh?” David asks as they walk down the hallway toward their office.

 

Emma shrugs, feeling tense and uncertain. “I don’t know,” she tries to say, but it merely comes out as a whisper.

 

The only thing she’s sure of right now is that everything is both coming together and falling to pieces at the same time, and she has no idea how she’s going to survive the impact.

 

~~~~~

 

As the end of the week approaches, Killian is feeling more upbeat than he has in a long time. Everything seems to be coming together nicely. He’s finally going to get his chance to get into Gold’s mansion and find the dirt he needs to tie the bastard to Milah’s murder and things with Emma seem to be going exceedingly well.

 

There is something different about her ever since she apologized. She’s more open now, freer with her affection, less guarded. At the same time, she’s still a bit cagey in close quarters, like when they were driving to the airfield. It’s nothing he can’t handle however, and a part of him enjoys the challenge of breaking down her walls, piece by piece and bit by bit.

 

Sort of like the way he enjoys making her melt beneath his touch. He was so hot for her in that dressing room….he would have gladly stayed there and missed the jump just to see how many times he could make her come undone, breathless and panting, her face taking on an ethereal glow. He sees it every time he closes his eyes, and more than once has had to adjust the fit of his pants afterwards. She is bloody glorious when she comes.

 

However, making love to her in a dressing room would probably be taking things a bit too far so soon after their reconciliation, desperate as he is to be with her again. He is trying to be a gentleman and take things slow as promised, even though he pushed it a bit with their little interlude.

 

She didn’t seem to mind though, if the smile on her face afterwards meant anything at all. Emma was relaxed and happy and she took the dive like a champ like he knew she would, hooting and hollering all the way down, her body reverberating against his. It felt wonderful, like a real bonding experience between them, like they were finally getting somewhere new.

 

It was only afterwards that she got quiet again, blowing off lunch in favor of returning to work. Something about her behavior troubled him, try as she might to console him with touches and kissing. That last kiss especially felt a bit like it carried extra meaning, but as to what it meant he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he knew he had to let it go. What sort of relationship were they going to build if he questioned her about every little idiosyncrasy of her behavior? She was probably just wiped from the jump, feeling the low after the incredible high in endorphins, or worried about work like she said she was.

 

God, he is a suspicious fellow, isn’t he? And what right does he have to be suspicious of her, when he’s the one with so much to hide? His involvement with the “pirates,” his vendetta against Gold, all the plans he’s made to try and bring Milah justice. What would Emma think if she knew the truth? She might think twice about getting involved with him, that’s for sure. No, he is lucky to have her in his life, and hopefully he can keep her in the dark long enough to succeed in his mission. Then he can be free of the guilt weighing heavy on him and give his heart to her completely.

 

Until then, he needs to focus on the task at hand, and most importantly - make sure he doesn’t get caught.

 

As long as the boys can get inside the mansion, he can get them out. During his affair with Milah, she had shown him how to exit the house through a secret corridor that had been built inside the house, letting out on the back lawn. He could navigate the dark, twisting passageway with his eyes closed, and that is how he had convinced the boys to let him in on the heist. That and the fact that the house in question contained priceless works of art.

 

Bloody bastard loved his Van Goghs more than he had loved his wife, whom he had thrown in the sea to drown the minute he had learned she was leaving him. Killian knew there had to be evidence on Gold’s computer - an email transcript, something - that would prove he had taken her out on their boat that morning and come back alone. Gold could pay his driver and his captain to lie for him and say that they had been there the same way he paid the police off to look the other way, but there was no way Killian was going to let that creton kill his beloved and get away with it.

 

No one had listened to him before, he couldn’t even get in to speak with so much as a sergeant at police headquarters in the days following Milah’s death, but once he lays the evidence out on the table in front of them, they’ll be forced to act on it, no doubt about it. He’ll provide copies to the FBI if he has to. Gold is going down, and there is no suitable alternative. The mere thought of the nasty little man who had treated Milah so poorly - she had looked on Killian with disbelief when he showed her even the smallest bit of kindness - makes his blood boil. Filthy sonofabitch is going to pay for what he did.

 

It’s this thought that consumes him when his phone rings early Friday morning, startling him from his bristling thoughts. It’s Whale.

 

“Ah, Whale, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Killian answers as he holds the phone to his ear and collects his keys from the kitchen counter.

 

“Killian? Listen man, we gotta talk.” Whale’s voice is uncharacteristically serious.

 

Killian’s heart sinks, immediately worried that the hit is off and all his plans to get revenge on Gold will be off the table.

 

“What is it?” he asks, waiting breathlessly for an answer.

 

“It’s your girlfriend, is what it is. She’s a cop,” Whale states matter of factly.

 

Killian halts mid-step, blood rushing in his ears.

 

He scoffs, “Right, Whale. Jefferson’s paranoia has finally gotten to you too, shall I take it?”

 

“No man, I’m serious. She’s fucking FBI. I had some friends look into it and I got the call this morning. Agent Emma Swan, out of the San Diego bureau.”

 

Killian’s brain whirrs furiously as he grips the counter for support. _FBI? But she couldn’t be...could she?_

 

He thinks back on all the times she’s acted suspiciously...the way she questioned him about his friends and their lack of jobs, all of her back and forth about their relationship.

 

When he says nothing, Whale continues. “Look, Jones, I honestly hate to do this to you, because you seem like you really like her an’ everything, but facts is facts, and your little babe working undercover means she’s a major threat to our operation. We haven’t decided exactly what measures to take, but she needs to be dealt with.”

 

“Measures?” Killian asks, his brain trying to catch up with his heart that suddenly seems to be beating a mile a minute.

 

Whale clears his throat. “Some of the boys think it might be wise to take her out surfing on a one way ticket, if you know what I mean.”

 

Red-hot anger floods his veins. “ _Some_ of the boys? You mean Jefferson, that little prick? You listen to me, Whale, you so much as lay a finger on Emma-” he seethes into the phone until Whale interrupts him.

 

“Whoa! Calm down, Jones. Nobody’s doing anything right now. Our orders are to stay on track for Saturday. Believe it or not, I’m trying to convince the others to let it slide. I trust you haven’t let anything slip while you were busy with your hands inside her pants, eh Jones? After we get the Van Goghs, we can all disappear like ghosts, and your little lady won’t be any the wiser, as long as _you_ keep your mouth shut. Comprende?”

 

Killian can feel his throat constricting. Emma’s an undercover agent and the pirates are considering having her killed. It’s a lot to swallow.

 

“Comprende,” he answers quietly, his jaw ticking as he clenches his teeth.

 

“Alright. We’ll see you later to go over the plans once again, got it?”

 

“Right,” he responds drily.

 

“Oh and Jones? Don’t do anything stupid like telling Emma about our little operation, or I won’t be able to do a fucking thing to protect either of you from the others, are we clear?” Whale’s voice takes on an edge that reveals the veracity of his ruthless nature.

 

“Perfectly,” Killian answers in a clipped tone, listening as the line goes dead.

 

_Bloody hell_.

 

~~~~~

 

On the way to the beach Friday morning, the sunshine is unexpectedly obscured by a dark patch of quickly-moving clouds, as if a storm is brewing. It only serves to make Emma even more nervous, if that is possible, the air ripe with moisture.

 

It will be the first time seeing Killian since she discovered that he’s in with the band of pirates, and somehow it feels like he’ll be able to tell just by looking at her, the piercing blue of his eyes unfailing in their ability to read her like an open book.

 

As she drives, she practices mental imagery: she’s a placid sea on the outside, a churning ocean of froth on the inside. She just needs to keep up the facade until Saturday, right? No problem. _Placid on the outside, churning on the inside._

 

She’s first to arrive, so she unloads her surfboard and her beach bag and makes her way across the sand to their usual spot. As she sits in the sand, leaning back on her arms and attempting to look casual, she’s reminded of that first morning she met Killian - the way he came sauntering out of the ocean all wet and sexy as hell, throwing her for a loop as she fought for composure.

 

He may be a criminal, but he’s a pretty incredible person if she allows herself to acknowledge it. A true gentleman, a romantic soul, passionate and fiery but also tender and compassionate. His smile lights up a room and he can get her heart racing more than anyone she’s ever met, his touch igniting her like fire. Why couldn’t they have met under better circumstances? Why couldn’t he stay away from the wrong side of the law and let the police handle Milah’s investigation? She’s so mad at him for getting involved with Whale and the others.

 

She’s sitting there smiling wistfully to herself when Killian appears silently beside her as if by magic and her heart leaps because she’s so happy to see him, despite everything that’s going on.

 

“Hey stranger,” she says, jumping to her feet and kissing him on the cheek.

 

When she pulls back, feeling his shoulder tense under her fingers, she immediately knows something isn’t right. His eyes are dark again, obscuring almost all the light blue the way they were when he was furious with her for going into the high surf, and suddenly she wonders if the storm she felt brewing isn’t happening in the sky after all.

 

Faltering, she takes a step back, searching his face. “Killian? Is everything alright?”

 

His silence is off-putting to say the least, and more than uncharacteristic, but after ducking his head for a moment he meets her gaze with a tight smile.

 

“I don’t know, Swan. Is it?” He raises his eyebrows sarcastically.

 

Uh oh. Emma’s eyes dart back and forth over his face as she wonders what in the hell has gotten into him. She tucks her hair behind her ears before answering, trying to remain calm.

 

Shrugging her shoulders, she says brightly, “I think so. We’re going surfing today, right? Cowabunga and all that…” She gives him the “hang loose” sign with her right hand. It’s then she notices he doesn’t have his surfboard with him, in fact, he’s not even wearing his wetsuit. “Where’s your board?”

 

Killian holds his hand up in the air. “Where’s my board?” He’s practically scoffing at her now, and Emma’s heart rate really starts to pick up speed. “I dunno, Emma, why don’t _you_ tell me? You know everything there is to know about me, don’t you? Hell, you probably even know what size shoes I wear!”

 

Concerned, she steps closer to him, placing one hand tentatively on his chest. “What are you talking about?” she asks, shaking her head softly as she peers into his face.

 

He brusquely removes her hand from his chest, his expression changing from feigned nonchalance to flat-out glowering. “Oh, let’s not pretend Agent Swan, I mean not anymore anyway. Lying isn’t very becoming for an officer of the law.” Scowling down at her, suddenly everything becomes clear. _Shit. He knows._

 

Emma tries to remain calm, but she can feel her eyes widening in horror as realization sinks in. There are two ways she can try and handle this, either one posing just as likely a negative outcome, and she’s just so tired of lying.

 

“How did you find out?” she asks, and his face twists in exasperation.

 

“Oh, so you’re not going to try and lie your way out of this? I’m rather surprised, seeing as how good you are at it,” he says with disdain.

 

She shakes her head in defeat. “Would there be any point in trying?”

 

“Thank you. No, really. Thank you very much, because now I don’t have to waste my precious time trying to figure out if any of our relationship was real!” he says tersely, the anger in his voice palpable, before turning on his heel and stalking away.

 

Emma runs after him, leaving everything else behind, and grabs his elbow. “Killian, wait!”

 

Chuckling darkly, he turns towards her. “What? Now you’re going to arrest me?”

 

“No! I just- Can we go somewhere and talk? What about Granny’s?”

 

He leans towards her in a menacing fashion, his hands waving in the air expressively. “What is it exactly you want to talk about, Swan? How you got me to fall in love with you just so you could rip my heart out and crush it into dust? Or you just want to lie to me some more so I’ll tell you all my secrets?”

 

At the word ‘love’ she flinches, genuinely taken aback. Her eyes are burning and she can feel the first tears start to fall as she speaks, unable to contain them any longer. A rush of feverish anger overcomes her.

 

“You’re one to talk about lying! You’ve been lying to me all along too, just like Neal did. I wanted to believe in you, to think that you might be innocent, but you told me yourself that I’d be a fool to trust you!” His jaw drops when he registers that she heard his middle-of-the-night admittance, and she pushes further, knowing she’s only making things worse but somehow unable to stop herself from inflicting another blow. “How _could_ I trust you when you’d only end up betraying me in the end? What are you doing involved with these guys anyway? Are you trying to find out about Milah or is it just about the payout for you?” She narrows her eyes at him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

 

“My reasons are my own, and I don’t owe you an explanation any longer. While the pirates may be living outside the law, I can say one thing for them - at least among thieves there is honor!” he says, baring his teeth at her.

 

Emma is despondent. “I never expected this to happen, you have to know that! I was just doing my job and lying to you was part of it. I was never supposed to get this close or develop real feelings for you, that happened all on its own! Going undercover was never supposed to be like this!” He doesn’t stop to listen though, turning away in disgust and continuing on towards the parking lot. Suddenly desperate, she hurries after him, tugging on his arm. “Killian, please!”

 

She reaches him just as he’s opening his car, and he stops, one hand on the door. “I hate to tell you this, Swan, but you don’t hold a patent on feelings!”

 

Then he shakes her hand from his arm and climbs inside his truck, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

Emma panics, unsure of where he’s going or what he’s planning on doing. The thought of him running off like this when she hasn’t even had a chance to explain...it kills her, because no matter whether she’s been undercover or not, she doesn’t want things to end this way. Running to her car, she’s grateful she still has her keys in her hand. She jumps inside, starting the engine and peeling out of her parking spot as she takes off after Killian’s truck in her mustang.

 

He blows through the stop sign and out of the parking lot, nearly causing an accident when a car has to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting him, and she follows right behind. _Where the hell is he going?_

 

Luckily, the streets are fairly calm, and they manage to avoid stopping at any red lights, putting them up and out into the canyon before long. When it opens up into a four lane highway, she accelerates until she pulls up next to him and yells towards him, “Pull over!”

 

His window is open and she knows he can hear her.

 

“What? Going to arrest me? Go ahead and try!”

 

_Bastard._

 

She’s had road training, and she knows what to do to force him to stop, but she doesn’t want it to come to that. He keeps speeding up, however, and she’s doing everything she can to keep up with his pace. They’re both so focused on each other that they don’t see the granny driving a slow-moving car up ahead in Killian’s lane. Emma expects him to slow down, but he doesn’t, instead stepping on it and attempting to pull ahead of her before he gets to the other car. He narrowly makes it through the gap, swerving into her lane.

 

Emma’s just about had enough of this. Now he’s endangering other drivers? She has to get him off the road before he causes an accident. Speeding up and switching lanes, she gets right into his blind spot and then nudges the corner of his truck with her mustang, knowing full well the empty bed will put the truck at a disadvantage when it comes to balance. Killian loses control and she watches helplessly as his truck spins out, slamming on her own brakes.

 

_No!_

 

The truck finally crashes to a halt against the metal barrier on the side of the highway, and Emma pulls over behind it, coming to a stop. Killing her engine, she jumps out and runs towards the driver’s side door, her heart in her throat.

 

Killian is there, slumped over the steering wheel, and she’s just about to go back to her car to call for help when she hears him groan and sees his hand come up to his forehead.

 

“Bloody hell.”

 

“Killian! Are you alright!?” She pulls the door open, grabbing his shoulder and looking him over for signs of injury.

 

When he jerks his arm away, she figures he must be OK and she huffs in relief. He looks up at her, squinting, his forehead split and bleeding over his brow.

 

“For someone who’s mighty good at running, you sure don’t know how to let anyone else get away.”

 

Emma looks at him pleadingly, her voice broken when she speaks. “I just thought maybe we could talk. And I couldn’t let you endanger other drivers.” She gestures with her head towards the street, where passersby are slowing down and staring at them. She waves her hand at them to signal everything’s OK.

 

Killian sighs in defeat, and when he speaks, his voice sounds more restrained. “If you’re not going to arrest me, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me go.” He looks up at her, dabbing at his forehead with his fingers and her heart clenches in her chest. She stares at him a moment longer, wishing she could help him somehow but also knowing this is all her fault. Her shoulders slump as she realizes that pushing him further won’t help the situation.

 

“Alright,” she says simply, letting go of his arm and taking a step backwards.

 

She’s just turned away, feeling defeated, when she hears him call her name.

 

“Emma!”

 

She turns back towards him, a glimmer of hope washing over her.

 

He purses his lips thoughtfully before speaking. “Be careful. Whale and Jefferson aren’t to be trusted.” His eyes linger on her for a moment longer, and she nods at him. Seemingly satisfied, he closes the door of his truck as she walks away, and the loud thunk echoes in her ears, sounding sad and final.

 

~~~~~

 

Killian drives for a long while, eastward into the dry and arid hillside, the yellow hills passing by in a blur as he attempts to gather his thoughts. His head aches where he hit it against the door, serving as a constant physical reminder of the pain that Emma has inflicted upon him. Of course, it’s nothing compared to the way his heart is aching.

 

She didn’t even try to deny it. He shakes his head, remembering the shocked look on her face when she realized that he knew the truth. In some ways, he respects her for it. Instead of trying to weasel her way out of it or spin another web of lies, she just straight up owned up to it. Still, it doesn’t soothe the betrayal and heartbreak he feels, knowing that whatever it was between them was a total fabrication.

 

He had debated whether or not to confront her, knowing that Whale’s threat was both real and sensible in the grand scheme of things. In the end, his emotions had won the war between his head and his heart, and he decided he _had_ to talk to her, had to know for certain that everything Whale had told him and Jefferson had suspected was true.

 

He feels so foolish for not having seen it himself. He prides himself on being quite perceptive, but apparently where Ms. Swan is concerned all his good reason goes out the window. Still, looking back the signs were all there - the fact that she had shown up out of nowhere and asked him for surfing lessons, the feeling like she was hiding something from him, and her tendency to run every time things got too real. He had written it off as part of her flighty, troubled personality, when in truth it had been because she was an undercover agent.

 

Even so, there were moments between them that he refuses to believe weren’t real. You can’t fake chemistry like that. She said it herself - “I was never supposed to get this close or develop real feelings for you” - so perhaps he wasn’t a complete fool. Not that it makes a difference in their current situation. She’s an FBI agent trying to take down the very ring of criminals that he was counting on to help him get his revenge. The only relationship they can have now will be handcuffed, from across a table in the interrogation room.

 

Wallowing in self-pity, he pulls up behind The Jolly Roger, parking in the back alley. He’s already late, but hopefully not too late that Liam will bombard him with questions, though he’s likely to notice the cut above his eye. Sighing, he takes a look at the damage to his truck, realizing he’s going to have to tell him he got in a car accident either way, to which his overprotective brother is doubtless to make a stink.

 

Sure enough, as soon as he walks inside his brother is all over him.

 

“Killian! What in the devil happened to you?” Liam asks, looking him over concernedly.

 

Killian shrugs. “I got in a little fender-bender out on the highway. But I can assure you, I am fine.”

 

Liam raises his eyebrows. “Well, you don’t look fine. There’s blood on your face. Here-” He throws him the white towel in his hand. “Go clean yourself up.”

 

Killian does as ordered, wetting the cloth in the bathroom sink and wiping all the dried blood from his face. When he’s done, his brother is waiting with an ice bag to hand to him.

 

“Thanks,” he says, grimacing as he puts the ice against his brow. They go into their back office, and both sit down in their chairs, across the desk from one another.

 

“You want to talk about it?” Liam asks carefully.

 

“Not really.”

 

He watches as Liam shuffles some papers around on the desk, giving him space. Killian thinks about Liam, and how he’s always done the right thing, the honorable thing. It all went back to their father - spineless git though he may be - and how he had told them when they were young that they could choose the sort of man they wanted to be when they grew up. No matter the circumstances, Liam has been a faithful example to him - a beacon of light guiding him home.

 

Here he is, on the precipice of bringing Gold to justice, but also of criminal involvement that he could very well do jail time for, and he has to stop and ask himself if he’s doing the right thing. As angry as he is with Emma, she’s just doing her job - a noble and honorable thing - and now she could very well be in real danger if Jefferson has anything to say about it. The whole situation is bloody insufferable.

 

“Liam? Can I ask you a question?”

 

His brother looks up from the papers. “Hmm? About what?”

 

Killian lowers the ice bag and sits up straighter in his chair, turning to face Liam. “How do you know you’re doing the right thing when there are two possible paths to take and they both seem to be noble?”

 

Liam wrinkles his brow. “Well, that’s rather cryptic, Kil. Just what exactly are you planning?”

 

He sighs heavily, putting the ice pack back against his brow. “I can’t tell you just yet. But it involves Emma.”

 

Liam scratches behind his ear in contemplation. “Emma? I like her. Now that’s a woman with a straight spine. In that case, I say do what’s best for someone else for once, even if you have to give up something you want for yourself. Even if it means letting go of the past.”

 

Killian looks up to find Liam staring at him, deep meaning shining in his eyes. He doesn’t know what Killian is planning with the boys, but somehow he’s gleaned that the decision Killian needs to make involves Milah, and he takes his brother’s words in, mulling them over in his mind.

 

Several weeks ago this all seemed like a good plan, like it was the right thing to do, even if he has to align himself with criminals. But ever since he met Emma, he’s found himself questioning things more and more. It’s as if he’d been living in the past for so long, he never even considered the possibility of a future - until he met her. Even though she may be slipping through his fingers, the goodness and the light he experienced when he was with her have left an impression on him. Regardless of whether what they shared was real, _his_ feelings were, and it’s enough to make him want a future - if not with her, with someone else - but a future nonetheless.

 

The only thing about Emma he doesn’t know for sure is if she has any idea what they’re planning on Saturday. Can he go through with the heist if he knows that Emma is aware of their plan?

 

~~~~~

 

After returning to the beach to retrieve her belongings, Emma changes her clothes and heads into the office. Once she tells David and Regina that her cover’s been blown, the office turns into a warzone. David is careful to warn her away from any further interaction with the boys, citing that it’s too risky. Regina concurs, and Emma feels helpless and inept.

 

The rest of the day is spent planning their raid on Saturday, but she can hardly concentrate as she remembers the look of hatred in Killian’s eyes when he confronted her on the beach. It was just like she knew it would be when he found out, but the guilt still settles in her stomach like a bitter pill.

 

He wouldn’t even talk to her and now- and now she might have to arrest him. Her heart aches, her entire body feels sick, and she just moves through the motions like a zombie.

 

Everything is settled by the end of the day on Friday, however, and like it or not, as long as the pirates show up at Gold’s place as scheduled, everything is going to come to a head soon.

 

Of course, things are different now that the boys know she was undercover. She had no idea what they’re going to do with that information, or if they suspect she knows about the heist. If they’re paranoid, like Jefferson seems to be, they’ll probably cancel. But if they’re as arrogant as they seem to be (and she’s betting on arrogant) they’ll go through with it.

 

She has no problem facing the boys and putting them in jail where they belong, but it’s Killian she’s worried about. If he’s been innocent up until this point, and he gets caught at the raid - or worse, gets shot - she’s not sure what she’ll do with herself. In her heart, she believes he’s innocent and only doing this for Milah, but she’s definitely been fooled before, and the depth of feelings she has for Killian certainly doesn’t help her think clearly.

 

After tossing and turning all night, Saturday morning she wakes up and decides on a course of action that may be risky, but she knows she’ll never be able to live with herself if she doesn’t go through with it. David’s going to be furious with her if he finds out.

 

After surveying The Jolly Roger for an hour mid-morning on Saturday, she finally walks in, cautiously looking around for any sign of Whale or the others. She sighs in relief when only Killian is there, sitting at the bar nursing a glass of rum. His hair looks wet and he’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, his shoulders slumped as he leans over the shiny wood surface.

 

Emma stops in her tracks, tears threatening to spill over just at the sight of him. Her lungs constrict painfully and she has to force herself to take a deep breath before continuing.

 

“What are you doing here, Swan?” she hears him say quietly.

 

She walks up to him and sits down on the barstool next to him, turning to look at him, but he doesn’t yet meet her gaze.

 

“How did you know it was me?”

 

Killian shrugs. “You have a distinct footstep. Also, there’s a mirror above the bar,” he says nonchalantly as he gestures towards the mirrored wall above the liquor bottles.

 

She smirks, sighing softly. “I should have caught that.”

 

He turns towards her then, a sarcastic grin on his face. “So, are you going to arrest me now? Or have you nothing to charge me with besides being a mindless twit who fell for the pretty lass that was seducing him for information?”

 

Emma sighs wearily, looking him over. There’s a bandage over his left eyebrow, but otherwise he’s as handsome as ever, albeit a bit on edge.

 

“Look, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but I came here because I’m taking a leap of faith. I want you to know that even though I was working undercover, some of the things that happened between us were real.”

 

“Oh really? _Some_ of the things? You mean you didn’t fake your orgasms too?”

 

It stings, it does, and her chin quivers slightly before she continues. “I’m choosing to see the best in you and believe that you are only in on the next heist because you’re looking for information about Milah.”

 

Killian’s face freezes as he takes in what she’s saying. He obviously didn’t know she knew about Gold’s place.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally says petulantly, turning away from her.

 

“Killian. I know the boys are planning on hitting Gold’s place tonight. The Feds are going to be there. I’m here to offer you a chance to come in. If you turn state’s evidence, and you haven’t been involved in the previous heists, I’m pretty sure I can get you off easy. I want to...I’m here to help you,” she says, placing her hand on his forearm.

 

He won’t look at her, however, and she doesn’t know what he’s thinking. She desperately wants to know what he’s thinking.

 

“Help me? By offering to turn me into a backstabbing prig?” There’s disgust in his voice when he finally turns to her. “Never.”

 

She knew he would say that, his loyalty to his friends is too strong.

 

“Fine. Just...I know I have no right to care about you, but I still do anyway, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. Don’t go to Gold’s place tonight, Killian. Promise me you won’t go.” The tears are falling now, trailing down her cheeks in hot, wet stripes. She wishes she could just handcuff him to the bar, but she knows she has to make it his choice. He’d never forgive her otherwise.

 

Killian refuses to look at her, but she can see his jaw clenching as he stares into his glass of rum, swirling the liquid hypnotically.

 

“Goodbye Killian,” she finally whispers, slinking down off the barstool and walking away, her shoulders heaving as she lets the tears fall and fall soundlessly. When she gets to the door, she swears she hears him whisper, “Goodbye Swan,” but she can’t be certain. She turns to steal one last glance at him and he’s looking up, running his hand through his hair. Miserable and heartbroken, she can only hope he’s watching her in the mirror as she leaves.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the dramatic conclusion! Smutty epilogue to follow.

****Killian remains sitting there on the barstool, absolutely stunned, staring into his rum for a good measure of time. He has half a mind to chase after Emma, but to what end he hasn’t a clue. All he knows is that she was crying and he aches to hold her and wipe away the tears. What a no good  traitor his heart is.

 

She says she came here to help, and as angry as he is with her for lying and manipulating him, her words ring true. Bloody insufferable woman meant it, the pleading in her voice still echoing in his ears, lessening the anger he feels even as he desperately tries to maintain it.

 

His anger is easily fed by his irritation, because she knows about the heist and the FBI are going to raid Gold’s mansion tonight. _Blast!_ _It’s all gone downhill so quickly_ , he thinks as he slams his glass down on the counter. He’s not sure how she found out about their plans, but if Whale or Jefferson get wind of it, things will be bad for him _and_ for Emma. On the other hand, if he doesn’t tell the boys what he knows, he could be allowing them to head straight into a trap. Does he really want to carry around more guilt than he already feels?

 

Running his palm over his face and tugging at his hair in frustration, he tries to gather his wits, despite the emotional turmoil that is currently splitting his heart in two. If he joins the boys in the heist, he’ll be risking capture and prosecution - possibly even his life - but, he may be able to finally nail Gold for Milah’s murder. If he bails out on the heist, he’s _still_ possibly risking his life, betraying his friends, and giving up on his chance for revenge, but he would be doing the right thing in the eyes of the law (and in another set of jade green ones, too).

 

He sees Emma’s face in his mind - “Don’t go to Gold’s place tonight, Killian. Promise me you won’t go.” - her eyes welling up in tears. He also remembers his brother’s words - “Do what’s best for someone else for once, even if you have to give up something you want for yourself, even if it means letting go of the past.” But then he sees Milah’s face in his mind, her blue eyes sincere as she strokes his cheek and tells him, “I love you,” and his heart aches in his chest.

 

Sighing resignedly, he raises his glass to his lips and drains the rum in one single swallow, allowing it to burn a searing pathway down his throat.

 

His choice is clear.

 

~~~~~

 

Emma rushes from the bar, the world around her a bright jumbled mess as tears blur her vision. Her throat feels raw and tight and she can hardly breathe as she pushes her way past townspeople and tourists on the street, unsure where she’s headed, only that she needs relief from this crushing torment.

 

Finally, she comes to the end of a block and sees the ocean in the distance, greenspace the only thing separating her from the bluffs. Breaking into a sprint, she runs the rest of the way, wiping tears from her eyes until she makes it to the metal barrier flanking the cliffside. Clutching it with unsteady hands, she attempts to breathe, the cool air blowing off the ocean and straight into her face, lifting her hair from her shoulders.

 

Her heart is beating erratically, and she stares down into the froth, the roar of the waves filling her ears hypnotically. It’s only when she’s calmed down a bit that she realizes where she is - the same exact spot she started in all those weeks ago, when she first laid eyes on Killian Jones in the water. It seems hard to believe that was only last month, when so much has happened, so much has changed. She remembers standing here on the bluff and looking at the surfers through David’s binoculars as if they were all identical little blobs. And now that one particular blob she had set her sights on - Jones, she remembers smirking at the name - he’s...well, he’s... _Oh, God, she’s in love with him._

 

An extra loud wave crashes against the rocks just as the realization hits her square in the chest, and she bends forward, leaning over the railing for support. _Idiot,_ she chastises herself. She had stood here and promised David she would be strong, keep her walls up, and then she went and fell in love with her mark. What a mess.

 

Despite every attempt to remain professional, Killian Jones worked his way into her heart, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it. Burying her head in her hands, she closes her eyes and just listens to the surf, attempting to soothe herself.

 

_Damn_ , all it makes her think about is surfing. It’s been days since she’s been out on the water, and the itch to get up on her board and feel the power of the ocean is fierce. Another piece of baggage she picked up unintentionally from this operation.

 

Sighing in exasperation, she stands upright and scans the area. No pirates anywhere, and certainly no Killian. She wonders if he’ll ever forgive her for what she’s done, but she doubts it. She probably wouldn’t forgive him very easily if the situation were reversed. With one last wistful glance at the water, she pulls herself away from the fence. She’s got a job to do, emotions or not.

 

Biting her lip, she reflects on the huge gamble she took this morning, and her gut churns as she wonders what the outcome will be. She trusts Killian, she truly does, but the loyalty he has for his crew is strong and if he tells them the FBI are going to be at Gold’s tonight, the boys will bail and they’ll be right back where they were before her operation. At least now they know for sure who their suspects are, but if Regina finds out what she’s done, she’s going to kill her. And _then_ fire her.

 

Emma is betting on two things - the arrogance of the pirates, and the nobility of Killian Jones. She knows she might be wrong about both, but she’s never wanted more to be right in her entire life.

 

~~~~~

 

The rest of the day passes agonizingly slow, and Emma hardly eats, consumed with nerves. As the minute hand on the clock ticks closer and closer to the designated meet time, she feels more and more like she just might throw up, constantly checking her phone to see if Killian has had a change of heart. He hasn’t. The thought of calling him to beg him again not to go crosses her mind repeatedly, but she has to remind herself that she’s said her piece and Emma Swan doesn’t beg.

 

Arriving at headquarters, she steels herself when David approaches her, regarding her cautiously and asking, “Hey partner, are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, just nerves I guess.” Her mouth closes in a hard line.

 

David squeezes her around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, it will all be over soon.”

 

That’s maybe the worst part. Just when she’s finally found someone again, someone who she could see herself being in a real, deep relationship with, she is going to have to say goodbye. And it aches, just as it ached every other time in her life she had to say that word, but right now it’s real and raw and that new tender bud of lo-   _No_. No, she won’t say it, never again. It’s time to put those feelings to bed for good. There will be no happily ever after for her, not this time, and maybe not ever. It was a truth she already knew too well, and it’s time to accept it once again.

 

Still, her hands shake as she loads the clip into her gun and drops it into her holster, remaining quiet in a way that will eventually get David’s attention. Fortunately, Regina is too busy to notice Emma’s sullenness. Her boss has managed to delay notifying Gold of their warrant until the last possible minute, something made easier by the fact that he’s out of the country, but it assures that he won’t have the opportunity to interfere. Emma can tell Regina’s feeling confident by the way she walks into the room of agents, shoulders back and head held high.

 

She addresses the capture group in a stern voice. “Alright, listen up people. These pirates are responsible for over 20 art heists and have managed to squeeze through the cracks like the slippery little rats that they are.” Regina clutches her fist in the air, shaking it as her words bellow across the room. “It’s about damn time for justice to be served, and we’re going to be the ones to serve it. The trap has been set, all we need to do now is lie in wait and then-” she slaps her hands together loudly, and Emma watches with amusement as several of the younger agents gasp in surprise. Regina always has had a flair for the dramatic.

 

She scans the room, making eye contact with everyone in a way that would discourage even the most plucky subordinate from speaking up. “You go out there and bring me back those criminals, or so help me God…” she trails off, shaking her head back and forth and making Emma gulp, knowing that she could be responsible for ruining the entire raid.

 

There’s a collective head nod, and a few “yes ma’am”s and then the group disperses. Emma attempts to slink out the door with them when she hears Regina beckoning her.

 

“Miss Swan?”

 

She turns around, walking slowly towards her boss, trying not to fidget with her hands.

 

“Yes, Regina?”

 

“Be careful, alright? They know who you are, and chances are they’ll be out for blood. Don’t attempt to make contact with any of them until they’re in handcuffs, not even Jones.” Regina looks her straight in the eyes, and Emma fights the urge to swallow guiltily.

 

Instead, she nods, saying, “Understood,” and gives her a terse smile. She turns and walks towards the exit.

 

“Oh and Emma?”

 

Emma turns back and finds her boss regarding her with her usual detached-yet-calculating demeanor.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Nice work.” She says it matter-of-factly.

 

Emma smiles, but the success is bittersweet. If Regina knew everything, she might not be so quick to offer praise. The only way she can redeem herself now is to do everything in her power to bring the boys in, even if it means arresting Killian. She pats the doorframe as she and Regina share a moment of mutual respect, then she walks away hastily, more anxious than ever.

 

She finds David in the hallway, and she’s struck with the sudden urge to tell him everything, even though she knows that would only make things worse.

 

“It’s time. Let’s do this!” David says energetically. Emma tries to muster up a smile, restrapping her bullet proof vest.

 

“Fall out!” she commands as she walks through the group, trying to maintain her composure as all eyes follow her lead.

 

The ride to Gold’s estate goes by quickly, the roadside passing in a daze, and Emma is glad she’s not driving. They take two black SUVs, trying to remain as low profile as possible. The cars will be parked outside the estate behind some foliage, and then they’ll make their way on foot to the line of eucalyptus trees that mark the perimeter of the gardens where they’ll take cover and wait.

 

David goes over tactical details as they drive, and Emma makes sure to nod and make the appropriate responses when necessary, but the truth is she hardly hears what he’s saying. She feel completely numb, dead to the world. Fortunately, she’s already memorized all the details of the mission anyway, storing them away in her brain like building directions that she has zero attachment to, when that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

 

As they’re exiting the vehicle, Emma glances up at the sky to see that gray clouds have obscured it, covering everything in a darkened haze. It’s fitting, she thinks, giving the evening a sense of foreboding and uncertainty. Tugging at her bulletproof vest, she longs to get this whole thing over with.

 

They creep through the woods until they reach the edge of the estate’s gardens, and Emma peers with curiosity at the elegant mansion before her. It looks out of place in the sunny Southern California landscape - more like something you would see in ancient Europe or in a fairytale book, ominous gargoyles carved out of dark grey stone capping the corners of the roof. The large windows are dark, no doubt obscured by heavy curtains.

 

Emma takes out her binoculars and scans the perimeter, looking for any sign of movement, but the house is still. Now all they can do is wait.

 

David nudges her arm, and when she looks down she sees that he’s attempting to hand her a protein bar.

 

“Here. Mary Margaret insisted I bring this for you.” He gives her that knowing, fatherly smile.

 

Emma sighs, taking the bar from him and opening the wrapper. “Does she worry? You know, when you have to do takedowns?”

 

David slants his head to the side thoughtfully. “She does, but she also has faith in me, and that’s about all anybody can ask for, right?”

 

She nods in agreement, taking a bite of the bar to save herself from having to answer. It tastes like dust in her mouth, but she forces herself to chew and swallow, knowing she needs to keep her energy up and she certainly hasn’t consumed many calories today. Having faith in someone...now there’s a concept.

 

The daylight starts to wane, and the crew settles in, ready to spring into action the moment they get the signal. Two agents have skirted around the perimeter to the front of the house where they are keeping watch on the main door.

 

Emma knows the pirates are good - they’ve managed to get away with too many heists not to be - but nothing prepares her for what happens next. She’s not sure what she was expecting, really, for them to come barging in the front door, guns blazing? They live their lives on the edge, and that’s precisely what she should have been anticipating from the start.

 

The helicopter appears out of nowhere, and Emma’s mouth drops open in shock. _What the hell?_

 

The entire crew watches engrossed as men start dropping down on ziplines like ninjas, dressed all in black. She counts as they fall - one, two, three, four. _Goddammit Jones!_

 

Her mouth is still hanging open when she hears David’s words make their way through the fog in her brain. “Emma? It’s on your call.” He’s standing tensely beside her, all wound up.

 

“Right.” She turns and addresses the group, listening as the whirring of the helicopter grows more and more distant. “Let’s move in, just like we planned it.”

 

The bright yellow “FBI” printed on her vest feels like it might as well read “TRAITOR” instead. She knows she’s not really one of the pirates, but still, she’s developed a kinship with them that is hard to deny, especially with one man in particular who she dreads confronting in that house.

 

Clamping down hard on the swell of emotions threatening to overtake her stomach, she pairs off with David and makes her way to the back door of the house. He covers her while she gets the door open, counting on the fact that the boys have already disabled the alarm system.

 

Her heart is about to beat out of her chest, but she manages to get them inside, moving as quickly and quietly as possible, not wanting to tip the boys off to their presence. There’s just enough light filtering in through the curtains that she doesn’t need to use her flashlight, but she keeps her gun out in front of her, gripping it tightly as they scan each room, nodding to one another silently as they clear them one by one.

 

As they pass through the expansive house, her throat constricts painfully, fully prepared for the next moment to be the one where she turns a corner and comes face to face with one of the boys, caught red handed. The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention where her ponytail has been pulled up to expose them, and she can feel sweat forming between her shoulder blades.

 

After carefully making their way through the entire bottom floor, she hears a soft thud coming from upstairs, and she and David lock eyes, silently communicating. They creep up the stairs, hugging the wall as they go.

 

When they get to the top, Emma sees a flash of light at the end of the hallway, even though the noises seem to be coming from the opposite end. She nods towards the right and points towards David and then to the left, indicating to him that they should split up, and he purses his lips before he gives her a nod of assent.

 

Nothing but the sound of her heart thudding loudly in her ears accompanies her down the hallway, as she edges closer to the open doorway. She already knows what she’ll find when she gets there, and a mixture of panic and anger adds to the storm of emotions raging inside of her. A small glimpse of the room from afar inspired her to believe that’s it’s an office, and she only knows  one man who would be more interested in that room than anyone else.

 

She allows herself one moment to suck in a harsh breath, her back pressed up against the wall, and then she’s inside the doorframe as quick as lightning, her gun pointing straight ahead of her, aimed to kill.

 

“Swan!”

 

She takes in his surprise, coupled with uncertainty, the blue of his eyes flashing brightly even in the darkness. He’s dressed all in black, and her heart sinks as she notices the computer booted up on the desk.

 

“I thought I told you not to be here, Jones,” she says through clenched teeth.

 

He’s raised his hands in the air, but he takes a step closer, speaking in a clear voice.

 

“I’m not here with them, Swan. You have to believe me. I came here to help you!” he pleads.

 

“You’re lying!” Emma hisses, but she can’t honestly tell, her lie detector thrown off in the heat of the moment and the weight of all her emotions. She’s angry and hurt and scared, her chest heaving as she shifts closer.

 

Killian looks towards the windows. “Listen, you may not believe me, love, but I’m telling you the truth, and if you don’t follow me right now, the boys will get away for certain.”

 

Emma regards him carefully, from the fact that he’s unarmed and surrendering to the worried look on his face. Is it possible he’s telling her the truth? She keeps her gun trained on him while she considers it.

 

“You’re giving up your revenge, just like that?”

 

He nods softly. “Aye. Does that surprise you?” A glimmer of hope fills his eyes.

 

“Well, you _are_ a pirate.” She tilts her head at him.

 

He begins to lower his hands slowly, and she does the same with her gun, albeit a bit more cautiously.

 

“Try something new, darling, it’s called trust.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. He’s dressed all in black and inside the mansion where the heist is taking place, and he’s asking her to trust him?

 

“Alright, Jones, I’ll follow you, but if you’re playing me...” she warns him, keeping a tight grip on her gun.

 

“I can assure you I’m not. We’re wasting precious time.” He turns and walks over towards an arched doorway, beckoning to her. “Come, follow me.”

 

This is either the best turn of events she could have hoped for or the stupidest thing she’s ever done, but she clings to the relief she feels at not having to put handcuffs on Killian - at least not yet.

 

Through the archway, they find themselves in a two-story library, a curved metal staircase leading up to the second floor. For a moment, Emma is awed by all the books, but then she sees Killian stop in front of a bookcase curiously. After scanning the titles, he pulls down on a large brown spine and then she hears it - the sound of a secret door opening.

 

“Come on, lass. We’re not far behind,” he tells her as he enters the doorway, flicking on his flashlight and glancing behind him to see if she’ll follow.

 

Emma is impressed, but she can’t completely ignore protocol (or her overbearing partner), so she lifts her comm to her mouth and presses the button.

 

“David, it’s me. Look, I’m here with Jones and he’s...he’s helping me.” She stops and makes eye contact with him, and he nods reassuringly. “There’s a secret door in the library at the end of the hall, and we’re going after the pirates.”

 

She hears David’s exclamation on the other end. “Emma, you better know what you’re doing. It’s clear on this side, no one’s here.”

 

“Where does it let out?” she directs her question at Killian.

 

“On the South lawn, there’s a small hill that’s obscured by an overgrowth of rhododendrons.” He points in the direction.

 

“Did you hear that David? We need the rest of the team to meet us down there.”

 

He pauses a moment on the other end, and she knows David is probably weighing his options before she finally hears him sigh relentingly. “OK, I’ll tell them. I’m on my way over Emma, I’ll be right behind you.”

 

“We’ll leave the door open, but we have to get moving.” She rushes over and crouches inside the doorway behind Killian.

 

“Go! Don’t let them get away,” David instructs, and she signals off before putting her comm away and pulling out her flashlight.

 

There are a lot of stairs and the passageway is dark and narrow, but they fly down them in haste, the scent of Killian both familiar and comforting in the close quarters. Emma feels a bit like she’s making her way through the darkness both actually and symbolically. Killian could be taking her anywhere for all she knows, he could be leading her straight into a trap, but somehow she feels deep in her gut that he’s doing what he said he was and she’s grateful for his help. She can’t say why she trusts him exactly, when every shred of evidence is telling her not to, but she does and it’s a testament to the relationship that they’ve built with one another.

 

Finally, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel and Emma knows they’re close, she can feel it. As they rush out of the passageway, she raises her gun in the air and shouts, “FBI! Freeze!” taking in the scene before her.

 

Locksley and Whale are standing together, each holding a black case that likely houses the stolen paintings. When they see her and Killian rushing towards them, they hand the cases off to Jefferson, who’s attempting to load a third into the back of a van.

 

“You sonofabitch!” she hears Whale exclaim as his eyes widen at Killian.

 

“Sorry, boys, but it’s time for your reckoning. Might I suggest you go quietly?” Emma smirks at Killian’s cheekiness even as she prepares herself for the fight she knows is coming. These boys don’t know the meaning of “quiet.”

 

Locksley reaches Killian first, and he ducks when the thief tries for a blow to the head. A menacing left hook and a swift kick to the ribs has Robin clutching his side in pain, and then Killian throws him to the ground and presses his knee into his shoulder blades, immobilizing him as he makes a grab for his wrists, holding them tightly behind his back.

 

Meanwhile, Whale comes at Emma and she blocks his advances the way she’s practiced in her martial arts classes, but he manages to disarm her, the gun falling into the grass. They go hand to hand, and Emma grunts as she blocks and attacks, going back and forth. Whale tries for a punch before she delivers a swift kick to the head that knocks him to the ground with a loud thump.

 

Tossing a pair of cuffs to Killian so he can put them on Robin, she pulls Whale’s hands behind his back, securing them.

 

“Not cool, Swan, not cool,” he groans, and for a moment Emma smiles, looking up at Killian and marveling at the team they make as he catches her eye, before his eyes widen and his look turns to panic.

 

“Emma!” he calls, and she looks up to see that Jefferson has abandoned the paintings and is holding up a gun in the air, aimed straight at her.

 

“You little bitch, I knew you’d be a problem,” he sneers as he gets closer.

 

Emma dives for her weapon, and just as she rolls over on the grass she hears shots fired, the sound like a thunderclap in her ears. Immediately, she fires her weapon, hitting Jefferson in the chest, once and then twice. He jerks at the impact before falling inelegantly and landing in a heap. It’s all over so quickly, it takes her breath away.

 

As the dust settles, she hears a moan coming from Killian’s direction and sees that he’s lying on the ground, clutching his chest. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._

 

“Killian!” she screams, rushing over to him. “Oh God, Killian, where are you hit?”

 

Tears threaten to blur her vision as she checks him over, the blood pooling through his shirt. She strokes her hands soothingly over his face, willing him not to die as he writhes on the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.

 

“Killian, please, hold on, I’ll call for help. Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too!” Everything she had buried deep inside comes rushing to the surface as she watches him suffer, the pain twisting his face in agony. She loves him, goddammit, she loves him so much.

 

“Man down! I need emergency medical service on the South lawn, stat.” She lowers her comm with shaking hands, pressing her hands into his wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

 

A voice comes out of the darkness and Emma doesn’t know if things could get any worse at this moment, but somehow they seem to be.

 

“Ah, Miss Swan, at last we meet.” A man with curly brown hair and a red handkerchief tied around his throat stalks towards her, a gun in his hand pointing right at her head. _Fuck._

 

Her life flashes before her and she’s gripped with a panic so intense she’s sure her heart stops beating, but then she hears a gunshot coming from another direction and the man stops, dropping his gun and falling to his knees. A second shot and he’s slumping forward, face down into the lawn.

 

David appears out of the darkness of the passageway, and Emma’s never been more relieved in her entire life.

 

“Got your back, partner,” he says simply, and Emma sighs, closing her eyes for a brief moment, before looking back at the man on the lawn.

 

“Who in the hell was _that_?” she asks no one in particular, but Whale takes it upon himself to answer her.

 

“August Booth, criminal mastermind. Or was, anyway,” he says glumly, jerking his bruised and bloodied head in the direction of the fallen man. Emma remembers the text messages from “A.B.” and suddenly everything makes more sense. There were always four men involved and the Bureau had thought the fourth was Killian, but now she knows he was never really involved at all.

 

David gets on his comm, giving orders to the other agents and telling the EMTs how to find them. Then he goes to Jefferson and Booth to check for a pulse, and the fact that they’re most likely dead makes her stomach ill.

 

Emma returns her attention to Killian, who’s still writhing beneath her and her heart sinks once again.

 

“Emma-” he grits out as he tries to look in her direction and she immediately shushes him.

 

“It’s OK, you’re gonna be alright, the EMTs are coming.” She presses frantically at his chest and the tears begin to fall, both in relief and torment.

 

Leaning down, she puts her forehead against his, nudging his nose softly with her own. “Why did you do it, Killian?” she whispers in wonder, gently kissing his cheekbone.

 

She pulls away again and he answers her through gasps of pain, his chest heaving. “Twas the right thing to do.” The words hang in the air, electrifying and profound, as he closes his eyes.

 

Emma is awestruck, her feelings for him immediately deepening. The fact that he gave up his revenge for her is one thing, but that he also turned on his friends, even helping her take them down? She can hardly believe it. He’s a better man than she ever gave him credit for, and now she might lose him for good. A desperate wail threatens to escape her throat if that damn EMT doesn’t get here right now.

 

She feels David’s hand on her shoulder. “How is he? What happened?”

 

“Jefferson,” she answers, glancing in the direction of his body on the ground, the loathing in her voice palpable.

 

They hear more voices and David calls out, “Over here!”

 

Emma refuses to remove her hands from Killian’s chest until the EMT gently pushes her aside, where she stands closely by, watching helplessly as they treat his wound. David grabs her arm, and when she looks up at him, she finally collapses. He catches her in his strong arms, and she sinks into his embrace as he cups the back of her head.

 

“It’ll be alright Emma,” he whispers soothingly, but she still feels like sobbing, the adrenaline starting to wear off as the weight of the moment sinks in. Pulling back because she’s still an FBI agent and also she thinks they might be putting Killian on a stretcher, she sees people milling about, one of the other agents directing the ambulance that is backing into the space. The stark realization that they’re going to need a coroner hangs heavy on her conscience.

 

When they start to lift Killian into the ambulance, she turns and looks at David, a silent question on her face. He sees the pleading look in her eyes and he pauses, considering.

 

“Go,” he finally tells her, and the corners of her lips tilt up in the barest of smiles. “I’ll take care of things here. Regina will want a full report though, later.”

 

“Thank you,” she tells him earnestly, before bounding up to the ambulance and climbing inside.

 

The ride to the hospital is erratic as Emma both tries and doesn’t to listen to what the EMTs are saying, but it sounds like they’re mostly trying to keep Killian stable until he gets to the hospital. She holds his hand the entire way, and she swears she even feels him squeeze it now and then. Staring at his handsome face, her heart clenches painfully. If she loses him...she just couldn’t bear it. He _has_ to be OK. He just has to.

 

At the hospital, they wheel him away straight into the O.R. and she’s left standing there alone, the uncomfortable smell of hospital disinfectants pervading her senses. A few of the other patients and family members stare at her awkwardly, and she realizes she’s still in her FBI uniform, the bright letters glaring on her chest. She unstraps her vest, happy to be relieved of its weight.

 

Collapsing into a waiting room chair, she leans over and puts her head in her hands, the stress of the day taking its toll as tremors course through her body. There’s nothing else she can do now but wait.

 

~~~~~

 

Killian knows he’s dreaming, but it’s such a nice dream he’s not sure if he wants to wake up. He’s floating in the water on his surfboard, the sky bright and blue above him. A blonde angel floats next to him, and the sun seems to be coming from behind her golden hair, making her whole head glow. She smiles at him and reaches out her hand and he takes it, reveling in the feel of her fingers in his.

 

Swan, he thinks.

 

“Killian?”

 

Groaning as he registers the pain in his chest, he fights to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel heavy and he’s tired, so very tired.

 

He manages to open them a slit and there she is, his beautiful blonde angel, holding his hand. He smiles, settling back into the pillows as he adjusts his body in the bed.

 

“Hey beautiful,” he groans.

 

Emma squeezes his hand. “How’re you doing? Can I get you anything? Water? Do you want me to call the nurse?”

 

“What happened?” he asks, his voice thick, as he struggles to remember, blinking his eyes against the harsh hospital lights.

 

“Here-” she says, getting up and turning half the lights off which causes him great relief. Then she pours him a cup of water from the bedside tray and brings it to him, putting the straw to his lips. He takes a few sips gratefully as he realizes how dry his throat is.

 

“Jefferson, that nutjob, he shot you.” He notices her eyes shifting away as she says it. “And then I shot him,” she continues more quietly and he nods, the reality of it filtering through. He remembers now - the South lawn, the fight with Locksley, Jefferson approaching and the terror ripping through him when he thought he might shoot Emma.

 

“They were able to remove the bullet though, and it didn’t hit any major arteries or organs, so it looks like you’re going to be alright, Jones. Live to tell another tale, or whatever that saying is.” Her face lights up, and she smiles at him affectionately, making him wonder if he’s still dreaming.

 

He reaches out and takes her hand. “Emma...thank you.” The whole thing's a mess if he really thinks about it, but also, all’s well that ends well, right?

 

She looks down, fidgeting with their clasped fingers. “I should be thanking _you_ , Killian.” Looking into his eyes, she takes his breath away, the green so clear and earnest, and he realizes it’s the first conversation they’ve had when all the cards have been laid out on the table. Well, maybe not _all_ the cards…

 

“Showing up there to help me, it was a risky thing to do, but you were right - they might have gotten away if you hadn’t come.”

 

Clearing his throat, he avoids her eyes, suddenly feeling bashful as he smiles timidly in response. He struggled all Saturday over his decision, but ultimately it was Emma that tipped the scales. He was angry with her, sure, but he understood that she was just doing her job, and given the same circumstances, he likely would have done the same things. Except he’s pretty sure the FBI doesn’t tell their agents to sleep with their marks (or cry over them, or show up at the hospital to check up on them) and he can feel the faintest glimmer of hope invading his better judgement, the same hope that compelled him to give up on his revenge.

 

“Well, like I said before, it was the right thing to do.” Sighing, he knows he’ll have to resign himself to the fact that he may never get justice for Milah, something that pains him greatly.

 

Emma steps closer to the bed, her thumb drawing soothing circles on top of his hand. She looks nervous when her eyes meet his, and he finds that he’s hanging on her every word as everything stills around them.

 

“Killian, I-” she starts, but just then he hears a loud knock on the door and a dark haired woman in a business suit enters the room, looking both regal and official, an FBI badge clipped to her belt. Whatever Emma was about to say will have to wait, but he has a feeling he’s going to want to hear it.

 

“Well, Miss Swan, I didn’t realize you’d joined the hospital staff.” The woman looks sharply at Emma, who drops his hand quickly.

 

“Sorry, I was just checking in on him,” she says awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ears. The other woman smirks knowingly as she scans him over with such emphasis he’s not sure whether to feel flattered or violated.

 

“Mr. Jones, I’m Regina Mills, Miss Swan’s supervising officer.” She doesn’t reach out her hand to shake his, which frankly, he’s grateful for, his arms suddenly feeling heavy and weak.

 

“Ah, that clears things up a bit.”

 

She raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Yes, I hope it does. Anyway, I’m here because the Bureau owes you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Jones. Despite your _questionable_ activities, you helped us bring in a ring of known criminals and for that the Bureau is extremely grateful.”

 

Killian nods, feeling a blush stain his cheeks as Emma smiles down at him, pride evident on her face, before she returns her attention to her boss.

 

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he says, addressing Agent Mills.

 

The brunette lowers her voice, inching just a bit closer. “I understand you have inquiries into the death of your former lover, Milah Gold.”

 

“Aye,” he nods, his jaw clenching as the thought of Robert Gold enters his mind.

 

Regina takes a deep breath. “Because of your bravery and assistance to the Bureau, I’m going to make sure justice is served,” she tells him, and his heart leaps. “I’ve already talked to my commanding officer, and he’s agreed to let me investigate. Now, I’m not guaranteeing you anything, mind you - Mr. Gold will be a slippery fish to catch - but we’re going to give it our best shot.” She offers him a small smile.

 

Killian can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “Thank you, Ms. Mills. That’s-” he shakes his head, unbelieving. “That’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

 

Regina lifts her eyes to Emma’s, a look of recognition passing between them.

 

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to rest,” she says. “I’ll be in touch when we have news. See you at the office, Miss Swan?”

 

Emma is smiling now, back to her former ease as she leans on his bed railing. “Yeah, I’ll be in soon.”

 

With an efficient nod, Ms. Mills sweeps out of the room, leaving a trace of her fragrance behind and a whole lot of happiness.

 

“Well, this day is certainly looking up.”

 

Emma sits on the side of his bed, sharing his smile. “I’m happy for you,” she says, and it makes him wonder. He puts his hand on her forearm gently.

 

“What was it you were going to say to me earlier, before your boss arrived?”

 

She ducks her head, and he prays that the moment hasn’t been lost forever.

 

Finally, she turns towards him and meets his gaze, taking in a deep, shuddering breath and he nods his head at her gently for encouragement.

 

“Oh, nothing. Just that I love you,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. Killian can hardly believe what he’s hearing, so he replays the words in his head confirming that she did indeed just tell him she loves him. An enormous grin spreads over his face and he grabs her hand, yanking her towards him until her chest is pressed up against his torso, suddenly feeling a burst of energy.

 

“I love you, too,” he whispers, cradling her head in his hands and staring deeply into her eyes. Then he kisses her, threading his fingers into her hair and digging them into her scalp possessively, feeling her chest rise and then fall again as she melts into him.

 

After everything that’s happened, it seems to good to be true, but by God he’s going to take it and hold onto it with all his might and never let go. Somehow, he’s won the heart of this beautiful, intelligent, fierce woman, and it’s a revelation, it’s like a new beginning.

 

Emma kisses him back passionately, her hands winding into his hair as she carefully avoids leaning too hard against his wounded chest, but he can’t even feel the pain anymore. All he feels is the hard press of her soft lips to his, the weight of her lithe body on top of him, the brush of her nose against his cheek. Maybe he’s died and gone to heaven after all. He doesn’t care.

 

When she finally pulls back from their long, hard kiss, she leans her forehead against his and smiles, her fingers caressing his stubbled jaw.

 

There’s pain and uncertainty in her voice when she speaks, and he longs to soothe it all away, pushing her silky hair away from her face with careful hands.

 

“I’m sorry for what I put you through...for lying to you.”

 

He shakes his head, inadvertently giving her an eskimo kiss.

 

“‘Salright, Emma. All is forgiven, love.”

 

She kisses him again, holding his hand against her cheek. He feels a slight twinge between his legs and it surprises him, though it shouldn’t really, Emma tends to have that effect on him. _Down boy, there’ll be time for that later._

 

“I should go. Let you sleep.”

 

She pulls away and he mourns the loss of her body heat instantly, groaning softly in protest. Killian lifts her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. Emma smiles - a real, genuine smile - and he thinks he’ll never grow weary of the sight. He certainly couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried.

 

“You could ‘sleep’ with me,” he says with a cocky raise of one eyebrow.

 

Emma rolls her eyes, biting her lower lip and giggling softly.

 

“I’m a bit shot up, but everything else is still intact, I assure you.”

 

Her eyes dart down to where the blanket is peaking in the middle of the bed and she raises her eyebrows.

 

“I don’t think you can handle it right now, Jones.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

 

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he retorts, popping the t. He knows he’s being ridiculous, but frankly, he doesn’t care. Maybe the meds he’s on are making him feel extra flirtatious. Or maybe he’s just glad to be alive.

 

All of his flirtation pays off when Emma leans in again, kissing him soundly, gliding her tongue over his lips in a way that leaves him wanting more, though he could hardly ever tire of kissing her he thinks, her mouth sending shockwaves coursing through his body.

 

Eventually, she manages to drag herself away, and he does mean drag - she comes back for two more kisses, and who knows how long their little dalliance might have continued except a nurse comes in to check his vitals and administer more medication and Emma springs from the bed, a rosy glow spreading over her cheeks.

 

“Alright, I’m really going this time. Liam should be back soon. He just ran down to the cafeteria to get something to eat.”

 

“Thanks, love,” he says, wondering how he’s going to explain all this to his big brother.

 

The last thing he remembers before he falls asleep again is the look on her face as she turns back at the door, waving and mouthing, “Bye,” her green eyes shining with mirth and tenderness.

 

He’s had a lot of bad days in his life, but this is not one of them. No, today is a good day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Screaming? Tears of relief?


	12. The Epilogue

**_3 Months Later_ **

 

A gust of wind blows in Emma’s face and she ducks her head, gripping Killian’s hand more tightly. They are hiking along the ridge of a mountain on the Channel Islands off the coast of Santa Barbara, an enormous expanse of shimmery blue sea surrounding them, the sun shining in all it’s glory.

 

“Alright there, love?” Killian asks, his eyes obscured by dark sunglasses, but the sincerity clear in his voice.

 

“Yeah, sure, I just hope we make it to the beach before sundown.”

 

“Not to worry, darling, we’re right on schedule. We should have just enough time to set up camp before nightfall.” He squeezes her hand and she smiles, feeling like she’s finally in the right place at the right time - and most importantly, with the right person.

 

Emma places one foot in front of the other, carefully navigating the stones on the trail. It’s been a long journey to get here, but just like the hike they’re currently venturing on, she feels somehow it will all be worth it in the end, despite the hardships they may have endured along the way.

 

Killian’s gunshot wound left him hospitalized for weeks, but he’s made an extraordinary recovery. His doctor declared proudly that he’s “a survivor,” which elicited an even prouder smirk from Killian that Emma couldn’t help but return. He had required a lot of physical therapy afterwards, but he’s healthy and strong, obviously benefitting from his active lifestyle and regular surf habit.

 

She’d been there for him as much as she could, almost daily visits to the hospital to check in on him and make sure his spirits were up, making out like naughty teenagers when no one was looking as long as he felt up to it, lying next to him and watching TV together when he wasn’t. Meanwhile, she harangued Regina into letting her in on the Gold case, and that, while causing Killian concern for her safety, also brought him an immeasurable amount of hope and relief.

 

With Killian in the hospital and the remnants of stress over what went down at the mansion reverberating throughout her being, she threw herself headlong into the case, clutching at the few leads they had like straws and willing the pieces to fall together as if her mere hands contained the power to make it happen. As much as David tried to offer his assistance, she mostly brushed him aside, both wanting and needing to handle it on her own, though it didn’t escape her that tracking down the killer of Killian’s ex-girlfriend was a bit... _complicated_ emotionally. Maybe she wanted closure for that chapter in his life as much as he did. Maybe she wanted it even more.

 

In the end, it all came down to a good old fashioned manhunt, something Emma excels at. Gold’s boat captain was the missing piece of the puzzle. If they could find out what happened that night he took the boat out with Milah, perhaps they could prove there was foul play involved in her death after all. But the man in question went missing south of the border several years before, and no one had seen hide nor hair of him since. That is, until Emma Swan came looking.

 

Emma hunted him down like the hapless weasel that he was, and with a bit of grit and determination, her efforts came to fruition. Turns out Gold paid him off and then threatened the man’s life, giving him no choice but to hide out in Mexico, content to waste his days away on liquor and gambling. His choice of company could have been wiser though - one of the town’s prostitutes led them straight to him. He was so scared when she and David came at him with their guns trained on his face that he practically pissed his pants, sweat staining the armpits of his white linen shirt.

 

Getting a full confession and an agreement to testify wasn’t even a challenge. Emma learned that he _had_ taken Gold and his wife out that night and was instructed to keep his eyes peeled for other boats in the area. Later, when they returned to port, Milah was missing and Gold told him to get lost. Hiding where he couldn’t be seen, he watched as his employer put on a show for the cops. Gold had never once requested help nor told the captain she had gone overboard, but his boss made it clear he was to play along - or else. He begged for forgiveness as if Emma and David could absolve him of his sins, and Emma would almost have felt sorry for him if he wasn’t such a slimy asshole who knew someone had been murdered and did nothing about it. Their only job at that point was making sure he stayed alive to testify in court, something the FBI was usually pretty good at.

 

What _was_ a challenge, however, was keeping the extradition orders and everything else a secret from Robert Gold so that they could catch him unawares. It seemed like he had a set of eyes and ears just about everywhere. Regina was good at being sneaky, though, and when the warrant for Gold’s arrest was placed in front of his arrogant, steely face, Emma could see the shock and surprise fill his eyes, his nostrils flaring despite his attempt to remain in control. The disturbing level of utter darkness in his features might have scared her - she’d never seen him up close before - were it not for the fact that she was quickly moving behind him to attach handcuffs to his wrists, which locked together with a very satisfying click.

 

Over. It was over. They could put the past behind them and start from a clean slate. She’ll never forget the look on Killian’s face when she told him, it was as if years of torment and worry were washed away in an instant. He kept thanking her profusely, kissing the back of her hands, telling her what a savior she was. She had never felt more proud than she had been in that moment, and she had never before had someone all to herself to share it with, someone who looked at her like she was a goddess and could do anything she put her mind to. It was a bit unnerving, but she couldn’t stop smiling all the way home from the hospital.

 

Of course, life just isn’t that easy. The back-patting and smug grins around the office were replaced with nervous glances and sour grimaces as word came back that Gold was going to fight the case with every ounce of his strength. The bastard was released on bail, despite their recommendation that he be kept behind bars due to flight risk, and somehow he had gotten through to his captain, who started to change his story as the court date approached, leaving Emma so frustrated she wanted to scream. In the end, she had to admit to Killian that though they knew Gold probably killed Milah, they may never be able to put him in jail for it. The bastard was just too powerful.

 

She’d come to see him at the Jolly Roger during her lunch break, wanting to break the news to him in person. Despite the obvious tension in his jawline, he did his best to reassure her.

 

“‘S’alright, Emma. You gave it your best shot. I’m satisfied knowing that he’s seen the inside of a jail cell, even if it was only for a few nights.” He sighed heavily, settling his hand on top of hers and she offered him a weak smile in return. “I can only hope they were the longest, coldest nights of his despicable life.”

 

She turned her hand over in his and squeezed his fingers as they looked at one another, silently acknowledging the others’ grief with a sympathetic smile. Emma breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that it wasn’t nearly enough, but at least Killian could make peace with it, and in the end, that was all that really mattered to her. She was proud of him, truly, with the way he was letting go of his thirst for vengeance. She knew it couldn’t be easy, but she could see in his face that he meant what he said.

 

It wasn’t the outcome either of them wanted, but the silver lining was the way it brought them together, scorned lover and thwarted officer of the law. At that stage in their relationship, still so fragile and new, they needed all the common ground they could get.

 

Emma knew she had a lot of making up to do considering the basis of their relationship had been built on lies - _her_ lies. After the pirates’ case had closed and they were free to move on from there, everything felt new but tender, Killian’s wounds both physical and emotional. The only thing that kept them together at all was the depth of feeling they had for one another, the sense of finding a kindred spirit, and the absolute certainty of their attraction to one another. The chemistry had been there right from the very first moment they met - the kind that made the air crackle with tension every time they were in the same room. She was lucky that Killian was the forgiving sort, and that she was brave enough to give their romance a shot.

 

Well, _that_ was still being determined with each new day, but she was hopeful. Maybe Mary Margaret was finally rubbing off on her after all.

 

It would have been a beautiful new beginning, their relationship blooming steadily from that place of hope and mutual understanding, if it were not for the Liam factor.

 

There were things that Emma was still learning about Killian, and one of those things was that no one - and that means _no one_ \- gets the better of Killian Jones without his big brother having something to say about it.

 

Oh, Liam was friendly enough at the hospital - bringing her coffee now and then, exchanging small pleasantries while they visited with Killian - but when he realized she and his brother were actually planning on taking their fake relationship from the undercover operation and making a real go at it, that’s when his overprotective mode went into overdrive.

 

Emma remembers with anguish the first time she walked into the Jolly Roger after Killian was released from the hospital.

 

_“Agent Swan, what brings you here?”_

 

_Emma stopped in her tracks, suddenly uneasy, as the corners of her lips lifted in a tentative smile. Her eyes darted about the room in an attempt to locate Killian._

 

_“I’m here to see Killian,” she said nonchalantly as she walked towards the elder Jones._

 

_Liam’s brow knit together as he regarded her thoughtfully, scratching at his cheek, and Emma halted in her tracks._

 

_“Is there news about Gold? Or more follow up on the case? Because I thought you were quite finished using my brother to get what you want.” He tilted his head at her challengingly as he leaned over the bar, hands placed firmly on top of it revealing tan, muscled forearms, and piercing blue eyes appraising her cooly. Emma’s mouth went dry. What happened to the warm man she had met here before? The one who thought she was so good for his little brother?_

 

_Taking a deep breath, she took a few measured steps towards the bar, raising her eyes until they met Liam’s straight on. Carefully, she slid onto a bar stool, leaning forward so that the other people in the bar wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation._

 

_“Look, I, uh, don’t know what Killian’s told you, but he and I, we -”_

 

_“Let me guess, you think you’re in love?” He slid his tongue over his lower lip, shaking his head at her in disapproval as he tossed his bar towel over his shoulder agitatedly. Emma didn’t know what to say._

 

_“How does he - I mean, who are you really, Emma? Is that even your name? You drag my little brother into this mess and almost get him killed, and now you expect to just waltz in here and have me welcome you with open arms?” The disgust in his voice was palpable._

 

_“No, I -”_

 

_Emma was completely taken aback, her heart racing uncontrollably. She thought - well, she_ _assumed_ _that Killian had told his brother about their relationship, but apparently she was wrong. And if he didn’t tell his brother, what did that mean exactly? Was he just waiting until he got home from the hospital to let her down easy? Or he didn’t have the strength to refuse her advances?_ _She_ _was the one who confessed her feelings for him at the hospital,_ _she_ _was the one who felt as though she was being ripped in two when she didn’t know if he would survive the shooting. Perhaps it had all been one-sided, and in his drug-addled state he had just gone along with the whole thing._

 

_Emma stood up quickly, barely able to look at Liam as she pushed herself away from the bar and began backing up._

 

_“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, just as Killian entered the room, looking first at his brother and then at her fleeing form._

 

_“Emma, wait!” she heard him call, but she didn’t turn around, didn’t stop when he called her name again, only burst through the door out into the California sunshine, hoping that she could lose him in the crowd._

 

_Her mind in a state of panic, she rounded the building and began walking briskly down the alley when she heard quick steps following behind her, and then his hand was grabbing her arm, forcing her to stop and face him._

 

_Killian’s face was full of torment, his brow knit together as his eyes searched her face._

 

_“What did my git of a brother say to you that’s got you fleeing the premises?”_

 

_Emma folded her arms over herself protectively, her body full of jittery tension as she felt her cheeks flame hot, blinking back tears as she steeled herself to look at him._

 

_She shook her head, looking away. “Nothing.”_

 

_“Like hell he said nothing! You look like you’re about to fall apart. Now tell me what this is all about.” He grasped both of her arms, turning her until she was facing him completely. “Emma, please,” he implored, the pleading in his voice her undoing._

 

_“He doesn’t know...about us. If there even_ _is_ _an us….” her voice trailed off weakly as she stared at an empty bottle over by the wall, pretending it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen. Anything to avoid looking at him, anything to retreat from the sharp pain of rejection she was sure was coming, that had come so many times before._

 

_Gently, Killian took her chin in his hand, lifting her face to look at him. When she finally raised her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath. The complete and utter adoration in his expression took her breath away as he smiled at her tenderly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. When he spoke, his voice was softer, full of compassion._

 

_“Emma, love, I told my blockhead of a brother about our relationship a few days ago, but he didn’t approve, said I couldn’t trust you because you’d lied to me, and him too, which if I know my brother probably bothers him more than anything else. He’s loathe to admit he was so easily beguiled by you.” He smiled at her and Emma began to recognize her heart thawing, though she was still feeling flighty and uncertain._

 

_“But Killian, what if he’s right? I mean, do we really know each other well enough to be...together? Our entire relationship is based on a lie!” She watched as his smile faltered and his expression grew serious. Then he looked heavenward as if for strength before he continued, keeping a firm hold on her upper arms as if he was worried she might still turn and run away._

 

_“Listen, someone told me once that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them._

 

_What did this have to do with anything?_ _she wondered, momentarily confused._

 

_“And what do you want, exactly?”_

 

_Killian focused his intense blue gaze on her, though his eyes were soft again, full of earnestness._

 

_“Why, you, of course.” He shook his head at her, disbelieving._

 

_As he took another step closer, she could feel the ions between them becoming charged, the tension vibrating the air all around them as he gazed deeply into her eyes and Emma held her breath, processing this new information. His words finally got through to her stubborn mind, and she was struck with sudden clarity, relief washing over her as her heart bloomed with wonder._

 

_A single tear escaped her eye as she took his scruffy face in her hands and raised up on her tippy toes slowly, their eyes remaining locked until she pressed her lips to his and let her eyelids fall, her mouth doing the talking that her voice refused to do._

 

_As their lips met, a rush of feeling swept over her._

 

_Strength. Unity. Hope. And most importantly, love._

 

_He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him and cradling her against his warm body protectively. Emma had never felt like this before - so adored and cherished, and with the absolute certainty that she_ _belonged_ _. It was a new and wonderful feeling that she wanted to hold on to with all her might._

 

_Sighing as they pulled apart, Emma settled her head on his shoulder, her fingers still bunched in his shirt as he gently stroked his fingers through her hair. She’d been a fool to doubt him, she knew that now, but it was so easy for her to fall prey to all of her doubts and fears._

 

_“Can I take it that means you want me, too?” he asked softly, and Emma grinned up at him as he tilted his head down to look at her, his face teasing but also displaying the kind of vulnerability that was so rarely present with him, a precious thing._

 

_“Yes, Jones. I want you.” She rubbed at his shirt collar thoughtfully, unable to meet his gaze. “I love you,” she whispered._

 

_“And I, you,” he whispered back._

 

_He bent down to kiss her again, and Emma was swept up once more, feeling like she could float right off the ground and never return to Earth. He_ _loved_ _her. He would_ _fight_ _for her - for them. How could she not love this man? He delivered all of his message in his kiss, and she eagerly attempted to answer him until she was struggling for air._

 

_Pulling back, she looked at him thoughtfully. “You and your brother aren’t going to have a duel or anything, are you? I mean, you didn’t mean_ _literally_ _fight for me, did you?”_

 

_She felt him chuckle deep in his chest, shaking her while she remained pressed up against him, fingering at some of the chest hair escaping his shirt._

 

_Killian shook his head. “No, Swan, I reckon not, but I will give him a stern talking to regarding how he_ _is_ _and_ _is not_ _to treat my girlfriend.”_

 

_“Girlfriend?” Emma’s head snapped up instantly, her eyes wide with curiosity._

 

_Killian stroked her cheek softly with his thumb.“Yes, Swan, usually when two people love each other and want to be with one another, that’s what the boy calls the girl he fancies.” He rolled his eyes at her exaggeratedly while he hugged her closer and Emma couldn’t contain the giggle welling up in her throat. She wasn’t sure she was ready to be anyone’s girlfriend, but somehow his humor helped softened the blow._

 

_“Alright, alright,_ _boyfriend,_ _care to have lunch with the girl you fancy?” She smirked at him._

 

_“Aye, that I do.” He kissed her again, just because he could, and Emma smiled against his lips, full of newfound happiness._

 

Things were going to work out somehow, she could feel it, and even if they didn’t, Killian Jones would give her one hell of a ride. That was one bet she was willing to go ‘all in’ on.

 

Liam lightened up a bit after Killian talked to him, but it didn’t hurt that Emma brought Ruby with her the next few times she came to visit Killian at the bar. These days, it would seem that Ruby was giving Liam _plenty_ to smile about, making Emma grin and shake her head as they reached the cliff overlooking the beach, revealing an untouched golden crescent of sand, flanked by brilliant turquoise water capped in foam.

 

Killian takes her hand, smiling at her curiously as they stop to admire the view.

 

“What’re you thinking about, love?”

 

Emma bites her lip, tucking her hair behind her ear with her free hand before sliding it into her back pocket.

 

She shrugs her shoulders. “Just Ruby and Liam. I’ve been instructed not to call or text over the weekend as the two of them get ‘better acquainted,’” she tells him, lifting her eyebrows to convey the full meaning.

 

Killian grins at that, his hand curling around her hip and drawing her close so she’s facing him. His tongue goes inside his cheek thoughtfully as he leans down and gently nudges her nose with his, their thighs bumping together. Her hand goes instinctively to his chest, rubbing a soothing pattern over the place where he was wounded.

 

“And did you deliver equally strict instructions for my brother and your friend, hmm?” He leans down and Emma shivers as his hot breath fills her ear, the whisper of his scruff brushing against the outer shell as he runs his lips up over it. “Because I intend to keep you _very_ occupied, Emma.” Something about the way he says her name, dark and full of sinful intent, makes her gasp, her eyelids fluttering closed. _Holy shit._

 

Then he presses his lips against her neck, right where it meets her shoulder, and lightning hot arousal shoots straight to her core as he bites her there, soothing the mark with his tongue, wet and warm. Swallowing thickly as he pulls away, looking a bit too smug for his own good, Emma raises a cool eyebrow at him, though she’s struggling to keep her breathing even.

 

Her voice comes out deep and gravelly, surprising her. “Well, then, Jones. You better get down there and build me a tent.” She gestures towards the beach with her head.

 

“Your wish is my command, highness,” he replies, bowing slightly as he steps away, watching her intently until he finally turns away from her. Emma shakes her head, following after him as he heads towards the trail leading down to the beach.

 

Although she finds him unnerving any time when he gets that close and pours on the charm, the feeling is more heightened than usual because they haven’t made love since the first time - the night he told her she was a fool to trust him. For a long while, she carried the weight of that association with her amorous thoughts, but lately it’s begun to fade and when she catches him looking at her in a certain way, his eyes hooded and his tongue tucked between his teeth, she wants nothing more than to pounce him, _hard._

 

Between his gunshot injury and the frenzy of tracking down Gold’s boat captain, there just hasn’t been time to get... _reacquainted_ with one another. They finally decided that a weekend alone, completely free from distractions, was the ultimate plan. Killian suggested hiking to this beach on the Channel Islands due to its pristine beauty and the fact that not many people bother to make the journey, almost guaranteeing they’d have the place to themselves, something you can’t say for nearly any patch of sand in Southern California.

 

Now, an entire day’s journey from civilization, a wide expanse of secluded beach promising a safe haven, Emma can feel her heart race faster as she watches the way he moves in front of her, the taut firmness of his ass speaking to the more primitive parts of her brain, the ocean breeze enlivening her senses as she hears the waves roaring in the distance. As if he can somehow perceive her mood, he turns around and gives her a devilish wink - _the bastard_ \- making Emma want to run the rest of the way down the mountain and tackle him to the ground. She bites her lip in earnest as her mind wanders to what sorts of positions would be comfortable in a tent.

 

Unfortunately, the sun is sinking low on the horizon, and with the added cover from the hillside, it’s already starting to get dark on the beach, necessitating quick action once they reach the bottom. They unpack and begin building their fortress together, getting the tent up and their food items set out in no time, Emma thinking to herself all the while, _We really do make a great team_. This, despite the fact that Killian makes it a point to touch her or slide past her body unnecessarily every time they pass each other, jolts of electricity spreading through her body at his touch and waggling his eyebrows at her when she looks at him in contempt. _So, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?_

 

She can’t be mad at him though, because she feels just as impatient as he does to have his body pressed up against hers, and she hopes and prays that there won’t be any other unexpected hikers joining them in their secret hideaway. At the same time, she can admit that she’s just a little bit nervous, and she kind of wants everything to be just right before they go there. Emma takes extra care in making up their bed in the tent, because even though they couldn’t bring much with them on the hike, she wants the feeling to be romantic, albeit a bit rustic in nature. She adjusts the position of their lantern and adjusts the blankets once more before she backs out of the tent.

 

When everything is arranged to their satisfaction about the camp, they move towards one another, coming together like two halves of a whole, completely drawn to one another. She takes a moment just to drink him in - the ruddy pink of his cheeks from a day in the wind and sun; the way his henley drapes over his body, effortlessly highlighting the muscles in his broad chest and shoulders; his dark hair tousled in the wind, making her itch to get her fingers in it, and the expression in his sea-blue eyes, sparkling with energy and mischief, the dimple showing in his cheek.

 

“So…” Emma starts, raising an eyebrow at him as she steps into the circle of his waiting arms, placing her hands on his chest.

 

“So?” he repeats, cocking an eyebrow.

 

“You know what we need now, right?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“To get our fire started.”

 

Emma bites the inside of her cheek as she looks up into his eyes, not missing the way his pupils dilate, his eyes growing dark. She feels his breath hitch against her palms.

 

“Mmm...is that right?” He bends down and presses his lips firmly against the sensitive skin at the hollow of her throat, making her breath catch. She threads her fingers through his hair instinctively, scratching at his scalp.

 

As his lips ghost over the exposed skin of her chest, her tank top leaving plenty of room to work with, Emma struggles to retain her composure. Killian works the tip of his tongue in between her cleavage and she closes her eyes momentarily, clutching at his shoulders, before she remembers what she was going to say. A brisk gust of wind that makes her shiver reminds her why she needs him to stop before they get carried away, though her lips positively ache for his kiss. With a heavy sigh, she pushes lightly at his shoulders.

 

“Yes, I mean...we might get cold out here. Once the sun sets completely.”

 

Killian stops what he’s doing, though he makes sure to press lingering kisses up her chest and neck before he pulls away. She smiles at him to let him know she was enjoying his attentions but is still preoccupied with the status of their current operation as she scratches lightly at the back of his neck.

 

“Too right, lass, too right. Help me find some firewood?” He runs his hands down her arms until he reaches her hands, and then he laces his fingers with hers, squeezing gently. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I allowed you to get cold on our very first camping trip?” He raises one of her hands to his mouth, turning it towards his face so he can kiss the back of it as he keeps his eyes trained on hers with that soft, twinkling expression he reserves just for her.

 

“One who apparently doesn’t know why I moved from Boston to San Diego in the first place,” she quips, disentangling one hand to turn and look around the beach. “There.” She points over to a pile of driftwood in the distance. “Let’s get this beach toasty.”

 

Killian grins at her in amusement, but he follows her willingly, keeping her hand in his as if he’s unable to break the connection. Then he helps her collect the firewood, offering his arms for Emma to pile the branches atop of until he can hold no more. Emma is impressed with how much he’ll put up with just to make her happy and she smiles in satisfaction all the way back to their camp.

 

By the time they get back, it’s darkened considerably, and they’ll have to get the fire started soon unless they want to light up the lanterns.

 

Emma gestures towards the pile of firewood they’ve assembled. “Now what?” She waves her hands at the wood uselessly, remembering that she’s never actually built a fire before, at least not one that didn’t start with a Duraflame log.

 

“Allow me, highness,” he replies, bowing low at the waist with his hands spread wide.

 

Emma rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to call me that, you know.”

 

Killian looks up from where he’s flicking a lighter at some brush. “Why shouldn’t I? I have every intention of treating you like a princess now that you’re mine, and royalty should be regarded as such, don’t you agree?” He winks at her and Emma feels her heart flutter. His _princess_. She’s glad it’s dark enough to hide the flame that’s likely coloring her cheeks.

 

Picking at the sand with her toe, she watches him work, a little bit impressed with how easy he’s making it look as the flames start curling through the logs, emitting white tendrils of smoke. There are a lot of things about Killian Jones that she finds impressive, she realizes.

 

“How do you know how to do...that?” she asks curiously, as she tucks her hands in her back pockets and gives him her full appraisal.

 

Killian smirks up at her. “Didn’t I tell you, love? I’m practically a boy scout. Always prepared and all that.” His devilish wink belies his statement.

 

Emma scoffs. “You’re no boy scout.”

 

Killian looks affronted. “Why sure I am. I helped the FBI take down a ring of criminals and everything.”

 

Emma huffs a laugh at that, shaking her head at him. “I suppose I can give you that. Still, there’s just something…” She tilts her head at him, considering her words. “...naughty about you. Sorry,” she deadpans, shrugging her shoulders, “all I see is a pirate.”

 

Killian rises from the fire, edging his way around it with slow, predatory footsteps, his dark eyes trained on her as he lifts his chin in defiance.

 

“I _prefer_ dashing rapscallion.”

 

Emma bites her lower lip, practically daring him to come for her. “See? Just like I said, naughty _and_ mischievous.”

 

He eyes her up and down briefly, noting her relaxed pose and then he comes for her, darting through the sand and kicking it up as he runs. Emma moves quickly, attempting to jog backwards so she can keep an eye on him, holding her hands out in defense.

 

“I’ll show you naughty and mischievous,” he growls as he reaches her, grabbing for her waist. The laughter bubbles over and Emma can’t stop now, even more amused by his irritation at her teasing. Just then, she trips over a small log and falls backwards, taking him with her, both of them landing heavily with an “Oof!” Though he attempts to break his fall with his arms, he still lands right on top of her, covering her body with his and she can feel his heart beating quickly against her chest.

 

“Are you alright?” He starts to back up, looking her over in concern, obviously worried he’d hurt her.

 

“Yeah, I’m just fine,” she assures him, her tone more serious now as she tugs on his shirt until he’s forced to lie back on top of her, arching one brow at her as he perceives her intentions. Craning her neck up off the sand, she meets his lips halfway, and it’s fireworks and a deep sigh of relief all at once. _God, she loves his kisses._

 

“Mmm,” she moans as his tongue glides past her lips, one of his hands roaming over her body while the other cups her face, fingertips digging into her hair. It takes her brain a moment to catch up with her body, and then she’s sliding her hands down his back, finding that ass she’d been admiring earlier and pulling him into her, spreading her legs a bit. She gives as good as she gets, tangling her tongue with his, tasting him, twisting her neck to take the kiss deeper and faster. Heat spreads over her body like wildfire, and once again she’s reminded of how good they are together. _Oh fuck yes._ They’re finally going to do it. It’s been so long, _too_ long.

 

Killian is making noises that sound like dirty, happy little sighs, and he feels so good against her that she hardly notices the rock that is digging into her lower back or the coolness of the damp sand until she hears a strange little grumble whose source she isn’t at all sure of, but she thinks she may have an idea.

 

Opening her eyes, she pulls back from their kiss, resting her head in the soft sand as she peers up at him through the dim light.

 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

 

Killian smirks at her and she rolls her eyes.

 

“You know what I mean!”

 

Nodding, Killian sighs wearily, pulling her up to a sitting position with him.

 

“Starving, actually,” he answers a bit sheepishly. “It’s been quite awhile since we last ate.”

 

Emma chuckles softly, rising to her feet and holding out her hand to him. “Come on, let’s go have our picnic. What kind of girlfriend would _I_ be if I let you go hungry?”

 

Killian smiles, accepting her offered hand and letting her pull him up to standing.

 

“Oh, I’ve no doubt I’ll be properly sated before the evening’s over.” He raises both eyebrows and Emma can only shake her head at him, suppressing a smile.

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

She tries to ignore the burning ache between her thighs as they walk through the sand, back towards the fire.

 

Dinner consists of grilled chicken from the night before and a pasta salad that Emma premade and packed into a plastic container. Once they begin eating, she realizes just how ravenous she actually is and is almost embarrassed at the speed with which she shovels the food into her mouth. Likewise, they down what seems like gallons of the water they brought, her body desperate with thirst. Afterward, they share grapes, taking turns trying to throw them into each others’ mouths and laughing brightly every time they miss. Killian dives for one and manages to catch it, pumping his fist in the air triumphantly as he cheers in victory.

 

When the grapes are gone, they settle next to each other, backs up against a log and feet stretched out in front of them, bare toes getting warmed by the fire. There’s a beat of comfortable silence between them that stretches out as they look up at the stars in the sky, amazed by the beauty of their sparkling light. She’d had her reservations about coming out here to the islands, but now she sees that it’s exactly what he promised it would be: absolutely perfect.

 

Killian pulls out his flask. “Rum?”

 

A slow smile spreads across Emma’s face. “Sure.” She takes it from him and puts the flask to her lips, taking a deep pull and feeling the spicy liquid’s heat spread through her. Then she hands it back and watches as he drinks too, suddenly feeling thoughtful.

 

“Do you miss them? The pirates I mean?”

 

His head hangs as he lowers the flask, free hand coming up to palm at the back of his neck.

 

“Aye. Sometimes. But it’s not unbearable, not like-” He breaks off suddenly, and Emma knows what he means instinctively.

 

“Not like Milah.” She tries to hide the vulnerability in her voice, but she knows it’s still there.

 

Killian shifts his body until he’s turned towards her. He shakes his head, sighing. “Well, they may have been my mates, but I didn’t bloody love them. Not in _that_ way.”

 

Emma smiles. “Are you sure? You and Whale had quite the bromance!” She grabs the flask out of his hand, taking another sip, but it’s tainted with bitterness as the gruesome scene from the mansion flashes in her mind briefly before she pushes it away.

 

He chuckles, shaking his head, but her unspoken questions aren’t lost on him, and she feels him take her free hand in his, earnest blue eyes seeking hers.

 

“Emma, I don’t blame you for anything that happened that night, and honestly I don’t feel badly about the justice that was served. I’ll always look back on the time I spent with the boys fondly - at least when it came to surfing and kicking around drinking a pint or two - but it’s a chapter in my life that I’m glad is over. The stress of it is over, and I have you to thank for that.” He smiles at her softly before continuing. “Much the same way I feel about the time I spent with Milah. I will always look back on that relationship with fondness and gratitude, but it’s over now, it’s in the past. My future is entirely full of blank pages, yet to be written, and I intend to write them with you.”

 

Her breath catches in her throat. How does he _do_ that? How does he always know the absolute perfect thing to say to both soothe her and catch her off guard? She absorbs it all for a moment as he rubs soothing circles over the back of her hand.

 

“Good,” she finally answers, more passing between them in their gaze than she can possibly verbalize as she watches the firelight dance in his eyes.

 

His thumb comes up to stroke at her cheek, and she closes the distance between them to kiss him tenderly, nothing separating them any longer. His mouth slants over hers hungrily, and she closes her eyes and stops thinking altogether as her tongue seeks his and finds it.

 

Warmth floods her body as she kisses him thoroughly, luxuriously, her hands grabbing at his shirt and pulling him to her. When they break apart for air, she feels dizzy and breathless, pleased at the twin spots of color she finds in his cheeks and the passionate desire she sees in his eyes.

 

Surprisingly, he stands up suddenly, stepping back a few feet, but then she smirks as his hands go to the hem of his shirt and he lifts it, revealing a chiseled torso dusted with hair that she itches to get her fingers in. Her eyes scan over his wounded shoulder, flinching slightly, but the scar is much more pale now and seems to be healing nicely.

 

When his fingers go to the top of his shorts, a mischievous look in his eyes, she can feel her breath come short in anticipation. He undoes the top button, but then stops, looking at her questioningly.

 

“Do you trust me, Swan?”

 

Emma freezes as she remembers the first time he asked her that, but then he’s reaching out his hand to her in silent invitation, and his face is almost apologetic enough to make her ache just slightly.

 

Rising, she comes to him, and Killian curls his fingers around hers. He gestures towards the ocean with a nod of his head.

 

“Up for a little night swimming? It’s something I’ve been dreaming of sharing with you since we first planned this trip.” His voice is tender and sincere, and as he bites his lip, waiting for her answer, she already knows what it will be before she opens her mouth. “Pirate’s tradition.”

 

“Night swimming? Aren’t there sharks out there or something?”

 

“Not likely, unless it’s me you’re worried about.”

 

Emma sees the hopeful look in his eyes - almost childlike - and she can hardly say no to him any more than she could deny him kisses.

 

Instead of answering, though, she takes a step back and shirks off her jacket. Then she fingers the hem of her tank top, watching with satisfaction the way his eyes darken as she lifts it slowly over her head, dropping it on the ground. Her pants slide down over her hips and then it’s just two tiny scraps of material shielding her from his expectant gaze. Pausing, she fingers at the clasp of her bra.

 

As if sensing her nervousness, he continues removing his shorts, proudly displaying his gorgeous body for her perusal, and she bites her lip, the cool ocean breeze sending goosebumps flying across her skin and causing her to shiver. Reluctantly, she unclasps her bra and shimmies out of her panties, and then he’s holding out his hand to her and she’s balanced by the warmth of his palm pressing against her own.

 

“Come, Swan. I promise you’ll enjoy this.”

 

She walks with him through the untouched sand, her mind gathering up all the details - the dark, impenetrable night, the light breeze caressing her naked body, the roar of the ocean that gets louder the closer they get, otherwise obscured by the darkness.

 

“I’m not sure I want to do this. It’s going to be freezing, isn’t it?”

 

Killian only smiles at her, his teeth flashing brightly in the darkness.

 

“How about this? If you hate it, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he answers with a wink, his voice low and seductive.

 

_That sounds...tempting._ “Hmph,” she answers, smirking back at him.

 

She knows they’ve reached the water line when her toes touch wet sand, and before she can hesitate, Killian is pulling her forward, breaking into a sort of jog. Emma can’t see a damn thing and she’s suddenly terrified of what might be hiding in the deep, dark ocean, but as Killian lets out a whoop of anticipation she finds she’s willing to throw caution to the wind, something that he seems to bring out in her.

 

Bubbly, cool water splashes against her shins and she smiles, suddenly feeling carefree as they jump over a small wave. Surprisingly, the water doesn’t feel as cold as she’d anticipated, instead it’s almost identical in temperature to the moist night air, and she doesn’t have much trouble going in deeper, sucking in a breath when a wave crashes against her stomach. She can’t quite see Killian clearly, but she can hear his laughter and she can feel his hands clasping hers tightly when another wave crashes over them, this one bigger than before, making her shriek. There’s water all around her now, swirling and frothing, washing her body and touching her places in a way that’s completely new. It’s terrifying and electrifying and everything she’d never knew she’d been missing all at once.

 

Just as she begins to worry they are going to go completely under with the force of the next wave, nature’s wonder roaring loudly in her ears, she feels Killian tugging at her hands.

 

“Come!”

 

They go running out of the water just as quickly as they came, but now they’re different - a bit braver, big radiant grins stretching their faces wide. Emma’s never felt so happy or so alive.

 

All it takes is for her to slow and turn towards Killian, his eyes meeting hers as the grin on his face falters, a heated look of recognition in his eyes as he takes a step towards her.

 

Emma grabs his shoulders and pulls herself to him, stretching up on her tip-toes as their bodies crash together with uncontrollable force, nothing separating them except the slippery sheen of saltwater.

 

A low groan emits from her chest as their mouths fuse together, the feel of his tongue slick and warm overwhelming her senses. She’s quick to hoist her leg around his hip, forcing them even closer, the feel of his soft skin and coarse hair contrasting against her own. Killian grabs her ass, pulling her into him and she gasps when she feels the hard, thick length of him pressing against her low belly.

 

His fingers tangle in her wet hair, their passionate kiss leaving her breathless and desperate for more as she strokes the back of his neck.  She curls her hands around his hips, savoring the taste of rum on his tongue, and when she pulls him closer he makes a hungry-sounding noise somewhere between a groan and a whine, making her smile in satisfaction.

 

Emma cries out in surprise when Killian lifts her completely off the sand, but continues kissing him as he guides her other leg around his hip, and she hooks her ankles behind his back cooperatively. His hands glide up either side of her spine, holding her close and pressing her into him. She shivers as the cool ocean breeze caresses her wet skin, causing her nipples to rub against his chest and make Killian groan, low and dirty.

 

Mind foggy, Emma has no idea where he’s taking her until she feels him push aside the tent flaps, then he’s laying her down on top of the sleeping bags, the material smooth and cool, sticking to her wet skin.

 

Killian makes good use of his mouth and tongue, working his way quickly down her body from the sensitive skin of her neck to her taut nipples, all the way down her belly. She closes her eyes, clawing at the sleeping bag for purchase as he dives right in between her legs, his scruffy cheeks  scratching up and down against her upper thighs. It’s dim and quiet except for the roar of the ocean in the distance and Emma feels drunk on desire, no longer in control of the noises coming out of her mouth.

 

But he feels so damn good and she feels so lush and slick, there’s nothing that can keep her from the rush of climax she knows is coming. She soars and crests, arching her back and crying out when she breaks, and she can almost feel Killian smiling against her as he continues to work her through it.

 

When she quiets, attempting to release her tight grip on the sleeping bag, Killian climbs towards her in a catlike manner, his eyes darker and more heated than she’s ever seen them. It takes her breath away momentarily, and she swallows thickly as she motions for him to come to her.

 

Then he’s kissing her, pressing down on top of her until she can feel every inch of his lean, muscled body covering hers. She grabs at his ass and pulls him into her where she’s wet and ready, and Killian moans softly into her mouth, rutting his hips against hers.

 

He continues kissing her slowly, thoroughly, palming at her breast and tweaking her nipple, his hips undulating against hers until she feels dizzy and weak with need. She attempts to line him up with her, but he pulls away again, making her moan.

 

Emma pulls back to look at him. “Please,” she begs softly, their eyes meeting.

 

He nods gently, their eyes remaining locked as he ever so slowly glides into her, her legs spread wide and welcoming, her hands palming his ass and guiding him home.

 

Emma’s mouth falls open as he fills her completely, every last little sensation overwhelming her in its intensity. Killian’s hands hold either side of her head, smoothing the hair back from her face as he watches her intently and she lets him, her gaze unwavering. She allows him to see what he’s doing to her - how he’s driving her completely wild - and every last emotion that flickers in her eyes, falling completely open.

 

“I love you,” he pants out in a coarse whisper, his thrusts becoming deeper and stronger with every push.

 

There’s nothing separating them now - no secrets, no lies, no exes or mates or pirates. Emma plunges deep into this new feeling - this new awareness, this new openness between them - and it’s the most incredible thing she’s ever experienced. She holds nothing back, meets him thrust for thrust and kiss for kiss.

 

Heart open, chest heaving, it doesn’t take long until she’s panting and moaning again, throaty and out of control. Killian, too, begins to lose control, his face twisting in agonized ecstasy.

 

They climax simultaneously, each lover’s expression of pure pleasure pushing the other towards the peak, and when he comes inside of her she feels whole and satisfied, eagerly drawing him closer and deeper.

 

He kisses her long and hard while they both lie there, slowly coming down from the high.

 

“I love you, too,” she whispers when he pulls away and looks deeply into her eyes, and Emma knows it’s real and it’s true. She kisses him again, her lips lingering.

 

Sighing, they pull apart reluctantly to clean up before the bedding is completely mussed. Tiredly, they pull the covers back and climb in together naked, warming each other with the soothing comfort of the other’s touch.

 

“You’re amazing,” Killian tells her, hand stroking through her hair. “Bloody brilliant.”

 

Emma smiles all the way through. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

They kiss until her jaw is tired, hands stroking over smooth planes of skin, Killian’s scruff making her chin raw. Neither of them seems to want to stop though, and she can feel the evidence of another erection rubbing against her thigh.

 

Finally, she flips them, easing herself down over him as she grips his hands tightly, pressing them into the ground behind his shoulders. She loves the sound he makes as he enters the tight clasp of her body, the beginnings of a third orgasm already winding its way through her body. She never wants it to end.

 

Taking her time, she works her hips over him, grinding down slowly, working him in circles, scratching her hands through his thick thatch of chest hair while he kneads her ass. Letting her head fall back, she moans in luxurious ecstasy, uncaring if all the world could hear them, but knowing that no one will.

 

She comes first, his thumb stroking in circles over her sensitive nub, and he follows shortly after, thrusting up so hard he shakes her entire body.

 

Emma collapses onto his chest, panting heavily, feeling the burgeoning ache in her thighs. She’s definitely earned her sleep tonight.

 

Killian strokes her upper thigh with one hand, massages the back of her neck with the other, and it’s utter bliss, Emma struggling to keep her eyes open.

 

She presses her lips to his one more time, then with a groan pushes off of him to clean herself again and turn off the lantern.

 

When they’re both settled under the covers, her arm thrown across his body as he cups her face and strokes her cheek with his thumb, she gazes at him until she can no longer hold her eyelids open and sleep settles over her, the gentle whisper of, “Goodnight, love,” echoing through her mind the whole night through.

 

In the morning, daylight washes over them in warm golden tones, bathing the tent in light. Emma awakens to the distant call of a sea bird and feels the gentle rise and fall of Killian’s chest beneath her cheek.

 

She stays that way for a long while, just savoring the closeness and intimacy, not wanting to wake him. Carefully, she traces over his eyebrow with a whisper-light touch, admiring his handsome  face while he sleeps. When he begins snoring softly, she realizes that he’s not likely waking anytime soon, so she retreats from their bed as carefully and quietly as possible, pulling on a t-shirt and some sweats and unzipping the tent, breathing in the salty air.

 

Emma walks a few paces from the tent, awestruck at the natural beauty all around her. The ocean is calm, waves gently lapping at the shore, and rays of eastern light are breaking over the hillside on the mainland, creating a golden fan above it. She stops right there in the sand and sits, crossing her legs and leaning back on her wrists, smiling wistfully to herself.

 

It’s in that relaxed state that Killian finds her, gently wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and dropping down to sit next to her in the sand.

 

“Morning, stranger,” she says with a smile, leaning her head on his shoulder as he pulls her close and kisses her temple.

 

“Morning,” he answers.

 

As if in silent agreement, they remain quiet as they watch the brilliant beauty of the sunrise, their breathing in perfect synchrony. It isn’t until the sun has risen completely that Killian finally breaks the silence.

 

“What’re you thinking about, love?” He rubs her shoulder, peering down at her curiously.

 

Emma looks up into his deep, blue eyes, seeing everything she wants to see reflecting back at her, and it makes her heart flutter, a smile gracing her lips as she thinks on how to answer him.

 

“I...was thinking about how much I’d like to go surfing again. I’m looking for an instructor - you know anybody?” She smiles coyly at him.

 

The dimple in his cheek deepens as he scratches at his scruff and smirks at her, raising a dark eyebrow.

 

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He nods, giving her a cocky smile. “Quite the dashing chap, too, if I do say so meself.”

 

Emma giggles, snuggling her head into his shoulder as she gently pinches his ribs. Looks like she’s caught herself a pirate, alright.

 

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Comments?


End file.
